


Girl and Wolf

by MegTheFireGoddess



Series: Copper and Shadow [2]
Category: Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Rewrite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 04:36:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 35,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14866742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MegTheFireGoddess/pseuds/MegTheFireGoddess
Summary: Rewrite of Wolf Speaker from Numair's POV. Lots of cannon deviation.





	1. Homecoming

Riding up to the palace felt like coming home after a long trip. There was both the happiness of familiarity and the sadness of a return to the mundane. 

Numair had just left his home on the coast but the seaside tower he lived in had seemed empty with only his books for company. Still, he suspected that the capital city of Corus would hold little more excitement. At least with his tower’s proximity to Pirate’s Swoop, he had George’s spy games to keep him occupied. In Corus, it would only be a matter of time before he became embroiled in court affairs. Just the memory of his last time at court was enough to make the mage wish he’d never received the king’s summons.

That was until Numair’s magic surged and his tall gelding, Spots, picked up speed.

“Daine must be back from the fall drive,” Numair said, speaking as if the horse could answer back. Unlike Daine, Numair had to rely on Spot’s excited neigh for confirmation.

“Fine you silly creature. Let’s go see her.”

Spots broke into a gallop and Numair to grab the saddle horn so that he wouldn’t fall. The horse slowed as he felt his master’s instability, continuing at a hasty trot until they were within view of the pasture where the ponies bought for the Queen’s Riders grazed. 

Daine sat atop the wooden fence, idly stroking a bluebird that had come to perch beside her. She had grown into a confident young woman of sixteen in the year since she’d become his apprentice. Still, there were aspects of her character that were distinctly Daine; wild, smokey brown curls that fell into her grey-blue eyes and brushed her stubborn chin, a hesitant smile that bloomed across her bow-shaped mouth like summer roses, a thin frame that belied the strength within.

“You worry too much, young one. I was training ponies while you were still learning to walk.” Daine’s employer, the horse mistress Onua, sat beside her, bright green eyes dancing with humor as she spoke to her assistant. The K’miri woman was in her early fifties but exuded an understated tenacity few could challenge.

Daine looked to the ground, “I just feel guilty, leaving you like this.”

Onua waved away Daine’s concern, “As long as you’re back in time for the summer drive, I won’t have anything to complain about.”

“Not even the Horse Lord’s tether could make me spend another winter in the mountains. I had my fill of knee-deep snows when I was little,” Daine replied with a chuckle, 

The older woman was laughing when Daine suddenly looked up and grinned. “Numair!”

She leaped from the fence to meet him halfway, automatically pulling sugar cubes from her pocket for Spots.

“I hadn’t expected you back for another two weeks,” said Numair.

“The road was smooth going. We made good time,” Daine replied as Spots nosed her in greeting. She petted his mane; her attention focused on the gelding in a conversation no one but Daine could hear. 

Frowning suddenly, she pinned Numair with a scowl. “He did, did he?”

Numair raised his hands in surrender, knowing full well the admonishment he was about to receive. Again. “Yes, I’m utterly useless in the saddle.”

Daine shook her head and fished more treats from her pocket, “You deserve this and more, you unbelievably patient horse.”

Chuckling, Numair dismounted to scratch Spots in that favored place between his ears, “I don’t know why he puts up with me.”

“Neither do I,” she said, eyeing him with mock annoyance.

“You wound me,” Numair dramatically placed a hand over his heart as if her jab had physically struck him.

Her impish smile turned into a full laugh but as soon as the mirth touched her, it disappeared. A melancholy expression flickered across her face as she leaped at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He caught her thin form easily, lifting her off her feet in a crushing hug.

“I missed you,” she murmured.

“I missed you too, magelet.”

Pulling back, he placed her on her feet and held her at arm’s length, examining her for the source of her revolving mood. All he found was a genuinely pleased smile so he smirked to hide his concern, “I think you’ve gotten taller since I last saw you.”

At six and a half feet he towered over most but Daine was among those select few who didn’t find his height intimidating. 

Rolling her eyes in exasperation she said, “We were only gone a month.”

He grimaced comically, “And what a dreadfully dull month it was.”

“Is that why you left for the tower?”

“Not truly, I had some magics to complete but I was constantly being distracted by court affairs.” 

“Who wants to bet that the name of said ‘distraction’ is Renee Sinter?” said Onua scandalously as she walked up, her hands in her pockets.

Numair pointed a bored expression at his old friend the horse mistress, “If I’m lucky, she and her player troop would have moved on by now.”

“But I thought you two were gettin’ along?” said Daine, her voice pitched with an emotion Numair couldn’t discern, “You both were having a grand time doing tricks for the prince and princess at Midsummer.”

Numair waved away Daine’s question as if it were of little consequence, “What I believed was true affection was a thinly veiled attempt to ingratiate herself within the royal court. I wasn’t willing to entertain such a shallow relationship.”

“Oh, don’t go tellin’ tales. You’ve entertained shallower. Just admit it, you can’t keep a lover longer than half a year before you’re bored,” said Onua with a chuckle that no one else shared.

In reality, Onua was right. He’d had fun with Renee, she was smart, funny, and had been honest from the start that her time with him was to serve a mutually selfish purpose. Yet, in those moments when they were alone, Numair had felt like he was playing the fool on a grand stage. What should have been moments of pleasure felt empty.

Not that he would admit this to anyone. Instead, he deflected by taking on that air of the unrepentant philanderer. “I don’t deny it. In a world of mysteries, few can hold my interest for long.”

When Daine averted her eyes, Numair changed the subject, translating her strange expression as discomfort though the reason for it was lost on him. “So, I happened to overhear your conversation as I arrived. Why would you be headed to the mountains?”

Daine wouldn’t raise her head as she spoke, “The Queen’s Ninth Rider group has gone missing. I’m going with the Fifth to help search for them.”

Shadows descended around Numair, the physical manifestation of his magical gift reacting to his darkening mood. Daine opened her mouth to speak but Numair was already whirling away from her to march toward the palace. 

Daine ran behind him, unable to keep up with his long stride. “Numair! Wait! Let me explain-”

His voice was filled with heat as he interrupted her, “You don’t have to explain anything. Jonathan was the one that put you up to this, correct? If anyone has explaining to do, it’s our illustrious regent.”

“No! I asked to go help search for the Ninth!” she called after him, the words escaping her throat as if pulled out against her will.

“You did what?!” Numair roared, turning on his heel to face Daine, “Of all the absolutely ridiculous things to do what would motivate you to-”

Daine’s fiddling with her badger claw stopped Numair mid-tirade. When he reached up to still the nervous habit, her head shot up and the soul-deep scars of her past shined in her blue-grey eyes. It was enough to leech his anger from him. “Daine, what aren’t you telling me?”

“Evin is in the Ninth. Fleetfoot brought a letter from him strapped around her neck.”

Numair’s frown deepened as the strange note of wistful fear registered in his ears. That particular tone was reserved for the wolves who had helped her avenge the murder of her mother and grandfather.

“The pack is in Dunlath?” he asked softly.

She nodded, “They had to move after-” Daine couldn’t finish the sentence but she didn't have to. Numair understood. Clearing her throat, she continued as if she hadn’t spoken in the first place, “The pack smelled me on a letter I’d sent Evin and wanted to deliver a message for him,” Diane’s voice thickened but words spilled in place of tears, “He told them he was in danger and gave Fleetfoot a letter to the king.” Daine averted her eyes, hiding her thoughts behind her long lashes, “I couldn’t just be a messenger after Fleetfoot showed me how he looked. He’s... my friend.”

Numair’s shoulders fell in defeat. “Do you know why Evin was in Dunlath?”

“The Ninth was investigating the immortals there,” Daine replied but her tone told him that she was questioning the validity of the story. She was right to.

“The Ninth was sent there specifically so Evin could find evidence that the Lord and Lady of Dunlath are working with Carthak.”

Daine stilled in recognition. The faceless Emperor of Carthak had come to haunt her nightmares but that didn’t stop her from ultimately raising her chin in defiance. A movement that Numair knew far too well. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Fine, then I’m going with you,” he said, trying to inject finality into his tone and only partially succeeding, “Four eyes are better than two after all.”

Daine threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. “Thank you, Numair.”

He returned the embrace gently before pulling back with a cloudy expression, “I’d best tell the king of my involvement. He’ll likely protest but I’ll be damned to the Trial of Sand before I let you walk into danger alone.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“No,” he replied, “It would be best if I spoke to him alone.”

“Then I’ll see you after?”

Numair nodded his consent before turning back toward the palace.

Jonathan looked up when the door swung open but didn’t seem even remotely surprised to see Numair there, his midnight blue eyes twinkling with knowledge.

“Numair, come in. To what do I owe the honor?” the king said in his long-practiced diplomatic tone.

“You know full well why I’m here.”

Jonathan ran his hand down his perfectly trimmed black beard, “I told her that you wouldn’t like it but I also knew you’d be livid if I let her go without your knowledge.”

Numair crossed his arms, “So you sent me a vague summons instead of telling her ‘no’ because you thought I could- what? Talk her out of it?”

The king raised a knowing eyebrow, “Did you?”

“I’m going with her. Just me.” Numair’s tone dared the king to argue, “If we go in quietly, without an entire group of riders drawing attention, it’ll be far less dangerous.”

The king knew the challenge for what it was, waving away the demand with an idle hand, “See? If you couldn’t stop her, what makes you think I could?”

“That is hardly the point. We both know this was the outcome you wanted. Please don’t insult my intelligence by pretending otherwise.”

Jonathan chuckled, “You win this one, Master Mage. I’ll send word to the Fifth to leave in two days under orders to patrol the perimeter of the valley for the sake of those in the smaller villages, but you are free to leave when you wish.”

“Good.”

Jonathan leaned back in his chair heavily, “Frankly, my friend, I don’t like the idea of sending either of you into that nest of vipers but I’m more concerned about you than her. If you get captured, there won’t be a damn thing I could do to stop him from executing you.”

The king’s words had the desired effect, leeching away Numair’s frustration instantly. “I know.”

“But there’s no chance you’ll let her go alone?”

“Not in a thousand years.”

“Truly, why do you feel the need to shield her?”

Contemplating the question, Numair tugged on his nose as he turned to look out the open window. Afternoon sunlight played with dust fairies, swirling in the soft autumn breeze. He was nearly thirty but he still called the floating particles of dirt dust fairies, much to Daine’s confusion.

“She had her childhood ripped away by evil men and yet she still manages to see the good in others. That’s something worth protecting.”

Jonathan sighed deeply but didn’t bother continuing the discussion. A dismissive gesture was all that Numair would receive because somewhere, underneath the cynicism that came with rule, the king understood. 

Once the door closed behind the lanky mage, Jonathan turned his face toward the ceiling, “Goddess, help that fool.”

 

Walking toward his rooms, Numair found Daine waiting outside his door. When she saw him, she smiled and he found the remnants of his melancholy evaporating under her brilliant gaze.

“Was the king upset that you were going?” Daine asked, pushing away from the wall she was leaning against and stooping to pick up some bags from the floor.

“No. He seems to think that you’ll keep me out of trouble,” Numair joked. 

Recognizing the packs as his, he held up a hand to stop her and picked them up himself. She shrugged and moved to stand behind him.

“He must have forgotten what happened last time I was supposed to keep you out of trouble.”

“Pirate’s Swoop wasn’t reduced to rubble?” Numair replied, waving his palm in front of the lock. It clicked and the door swung open slowly.

She narrowed her eyes on him, “You almost died.”

Numair shrugged and, bowing slightly, gestured for her to enter ahead of him, “‘Almost’ dying is far better than actually dying.”

“Only barely.” Daine got two steps past the threshold before she froze. “Hobs bobs! What happened in here?”

“The Laundress,” he replied with a huff as if those two words explained the masses of shirts and breeches that littered almost every surface save for his bed and desk.

Apparently, Daine didn’t require further explanation as she turned a scowl on him, “That’s the third time you’ve annoyed the palace staff in six months.” Much to his chagrin, she began listing occurrences on her fingers. “First it was the cook who banned you from the kitchens after you used her favorite pot to brew a foul potion that burned through the bottom of it.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, “I needed a copper receptacle big enough to heat the potion evenly but the acid was more volatile than I thought. I did discover a spell to arrest the degradation of metal under extreme circumstances! Doesn’t that count for something?”

Daine was not impressed as she ticked off his second offense, “The quartermaster caught you raiding the supply closet AGAIN and when he yelled at you, you used a silence spell on him and then forgot about it until he nailed a really long message to your door.”

“Have you ever heard that man’s voice?” he playfully shuddered for effect, “I did everyone in the palace a great service by leaving that spell on him for a week.”

She visibly stifled a smirk and moved on.

“Now you’ve caused the laundress to, what?” She indicated the room with a wave of her hand, “I don’t even know how to say it.”

“I accidentally left the simulated lightning snake I had been working on in the bottom of my laundry basket and when it got added to the washing vat it exploded into an indoor thunderstorm,” he looked down contritely, “I do actually feel bad about that.”

Daine crossed her arms, “That doesn’t explain the clothes everywhere.”

“Apparently the laundress is involved with one of the teachers at the university. He spelled my clean laundry so that it would turn into a tornado when it was delivered. I broke the spell but I might have forgotten to clean it up before I left.”

Daine pinched the bridge of her nose, something she had only started doing recently, “You are the silliest man in the world.”

“So you keep telling me,” he said in mock annoyance, “Don’t tell me you haven’t earned the wrath of some of the palace staff. I happen to know that the Rider’s seamstress has started charging you for extra materials because your friends have destroyed far too much of her fine work.”

Daine let her hand fall away, smiling ruefully, “Very true. I’ve taken to just mending my own clothes rather than see her face turn red.”

“See? As a mage, it’s an occupational hazard.”

“I s’pose you’re right,” she replied and, without his consent, began retrieving laundry and folding it neatly. 

“Don’t bother folding them,” he said in exasperation, “They’ll just end up shoved into my dressing chest.”

She rolled her eyes and ignored him, continuing her task. Knowing better than to argue, Numair unpacked his bags and began refilling them with the books and other magic supplies he would take on their journey. At some point, she crossed the room to hand him some of the clean laundry which he carefully stowed in his bag.

Before either of them realized it, the fourteenth bell rang.

Daine cursed, “Kitten will be awake and have likely found all sorts of mischief!”

Numair frowned and closed his pack, “I just hope she didn’t decide to play with the ink pot again.”

Daine headed for the door with Numair on her heels. “Me too. Who knew that getting ink off dragon hide would be so hard?” 

Glancing over her shoulder, she passed him a tired expression to which he could only shrug. “No scholar that I can think of. Certainly wasn’t in the Draconian Codex.”

Daine shook her head, “There's a lot missing from that book.”

“Maybe you should write a new one.”

“Very funny,” she replied in a tone that said she would absolutely do no such thing.

As Daine and Numair descended the hill toward the Rider’s stables, they heard a loud crash. They looked at each other in alarm and ran toward Daine’s room. Throwing open the door, Daine found Kitten chasing a particularly jumpy squirrel across every surface of the room, knocking books and gear to the floor.

“Kitten!” Daine admonished and the small dragon froze, forepaw outstretched toward the cornered squirrel. Kitten’s normally powder-blue scales turned a soft grey as Daine put her hands on her hips, “You leave that poor thing alone and start cleaning up this mess.”

No bigger than a cat, the dragon stood on her hind legs to trill at Daine in question.

“He doesn’t think it’s fun which just makes it mean,” Daine replied.

Letting out a whistling sigh, Kitten set about gathering the writing brushes that had rolled across the floor

Feeling sorry for the small dragon, Numair moved to help her retrieve the books and papers that had been knocked off the desk. Kitten hummed softly in appreciation, her scales becoming a grey-blue color.

Daine eyed Numair sternly before she went to the frightened squirrel and picked it up gently. It chattered at her angrily but she patiently listened to the small creature's woes before walking to the window and setting him down so he could scurry away.

“What could the squirrel need that would have him braving such peril?” asked Numair, trying to contain the smile that had found its way to his lips.

Daine sighed, “Curiosity. He heard Kitten snoring and wondered at the sound. I had to remind him that curiosity leads to traps.”

Numair held out a cup to Kitten who dutifully placed the collected brushes inside so that he could put it back on the desk.

“So when are we leaving?” asked Daine as she placed her bags on her bed to pack the few extra items she would need for the journey.

“It would probably be best if we leave as soon as possible,” Numair replied as he took a book from Kitten and placed it on the shelf.

Kitten trilled a question that only Daine seemed to understand though she had said many times that she couldn’t speak to the dragonet as she did to mortal animals. “Yes, we’re leaving again but we’ll be back before you know it.”

Kitten looked down sadly and Numair patted her scaly head.

“Don’t worry, little one, once we get back I can take you to the tower and you can add to that collection of seashells you keep in the stable.”

Kitten brightened at that, looking up at Numair and turning an almost white shade of blue. Daine smiled at them fondly and closed her packs before retrieving Kitten’s riding satchel. The satchel was made of soft leather and lined with sheepskin. It had been Numair’s midwinter gift to the dragonet and she had been overjoyed to learn that the pack meant she no longer had to travel in the rough saddle bag Daine had used before that. 

Daine’s midwinter gift from her teacher was sitting on the floor beside her bed, having been a victim of Kitten and her unwilling playmate. It was a book of ancient myths that included stories of immortals as they had been in the days before they were banished to the divine realms. The spine was worn from how often she read it.

Picking it up, Numair handed it to her, “Don’t forget this.”

She blushed and took it to stow in her pack, “Thank you. If I’d forgotten that, I would have ended up with a lot of sleepless nights.”

“And, for my own sanity, I can’t let that happen. You’re almost as grumpy as Onua before her morning tea when you’re overtired.”

She chuckled and bent to pick up Kitten, “You might be right. Well, I’d better check in on the new ponies and let them know I’ll be gone for a while.”

Numair smiled and said, “I’ll see you in the morning, then,” before turning to exit. 

Daine’s voice stopped him just as he touched the doorknob. “Numair, before you go, I wanted to say- well, I know you were against this but I’m glad you’re coming with me.”

He bowed his head to her, “I’m sorry I reacted the way I did. I’m afraid I might have made an ass of myself.”

“Don’t worry,” she replied with a grin, “I’ve come to expect that from you.”

He stifled a smile in favor of a raised eyebrow, “Is that so?”

She nodded, “Luckily, I’m very stubborn.”

“Of that, I am well aware, magelet,” he replied in mocking exasperation as he pulled open the door.

Her chuckle followed him out.


	2. Old Fears

Numair stood outside the gate of the Gladiatorial Arena in Carthak. The looming archway always filled him with a certain amount of anxiety as every time he’d passed through it he’d been met with heartache and fear.

Standing on the opposite side of the threshold was the Graveyard Hag. Gnarled fingers wrapped around the twisted walking stick that had become his bane in the last year and a half.

Her small silver braids ended in ebony beads and fell to just below an angular jaw that held few teeth. Everything from her hunched back to the lines on her face made her look fragile but the mischief in her black eyes belied it all. No other goddess was as devious as the one standing before him.

“This is a dangerous path you’re headed down, Arram,” she said, the words dancing in the air as if she had created them with a flute rather than her voice, “The northern parts are the domain of the wild gods. Your student will thrive there but you won’t. If you want to stay out of Ozorne’s clutches, you’d best be careful.”

Numair pointed a bored look at the old woman, “I’m aware of the dangers.”

“Are you?” she asked, her toothy smile growing contemplative, “Then it seems I wasted a trip. Why don’t you make my time worth it and play a game with me?”

“No. I know better than to play your games.”

She cackled and manifested an ivory cup in one hand, rattling the dice within as if to tempt him, “You don’t even know what’s in the pot.”

“I don’t need to know. Whatever it is can’t be worth whatever you want me to put in.”

The goddess waved away his words, “You don’t have anything I want right now.”

“But I will in the future.”

Her smile turned proud, “Oh, you clever boy! You always know exactly how to keep me on my toes! It’s exhilarating! Fine, you’ve caught me. I want you to keep a secret, one you won’t want to keep.”

“What secret?”

The goddess wagged a bony finger before his eyes, “You know I can’t tell you that. What I can tell you is what I’ll put in. It’s one of your favorite things, knowledge.”

“Knowledge of?” he asked, forcing himself to remain aloof.

“I’ll tell you what the northern gods are planning for Daine. I promise it is very valuable information.”

Numair tugged his nose in thought.

“Come now, you know you can’t resist. You’ve got a soft spot a mile wide for that girl.”

He waved away her words with fluttering fingers, “And you’ll continue to use that to your advantage, I’m sure.”

“Of course! I’m not nearly as discerning as my aunts and uncles.”

Numair sighed, “Fine. You have a deal, my lady.”

Her grin split her gaunt face in two, “I knew you’d agree!”

The dice were cast upon the sandstone walkway. The single dotted side of each die stared up at him, the equal of two colloquially known as snake’s eyes.

“Oh, what bad luck,” said the goddess and her eyes sparkled, “I win.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, “You cheated.”

The goddess cackled, “Of course I did, cleverer, but you just couldn’t resist. Admit it, you like playing games with me.”

Raising his nose into the air, Numair crossed his arms arrogantly, “I will admit no such thing.”

“And yet you’ll keep my secret. Don’t worry, its all for the better. I like you far too much to see you end up in my father’s hands.”

“What a hollow comfort,” he replied. Somehow her promise to keep him from the Black God’s realm wasn’t reassuring.

The goddess only laughed as she used the end of her walking stick to push him back into the darkness of deep sleep.

 

When Numair awoke just before dawn he checked and double-checked his packs before swinging them over his shoulder and heading for the Rider training grounds.

Daine was already there, having saddled her pony, Cloud, and the old packhorse Mangle. She was in the process of putting on Spots’ bitless bridle when Mangle shifted and Kitten poked her head from her traveling pack, emitting a soft whistle. Daine looked up to smile at her teacher. Returning her silent greeting, he moved to put his packs on Spot’s back.

When she finished, she flipped the reins over Spot’s head and let him stand on his own. There was no need to tie a horse when Daine was around.

“Fleetfoot and Russet should be here soon. After I introduce everyone we can ride out.”

As if they had heard her words, two wolves bounded through the pasture. The creatures were keen, careful to give the grazing ponies a wide berth and stopping a good distance from the saddled mounts but the smell of wolf carried. Cloud was unaffected by its presence, simply raising her head to watch them approach. Spots and Mangle, on the other hand, shifted uncomfortably. Mangle’s breath came out his nostrils at an accelerated rate, creating a thick cloud of water vapor in the early-morning chill.

Numair touched Spot’s neck and the gelding immediately calmed, his head dropping in a show of trust. Daine did much the same for Mangle, “It’s alright. They won’t hurt you. I promise.”

Unlike spots, Mangle only relaxed slightly. Feeling the tension in the horse, Kitten trilled for Daine to set her on the ground. Daine did so and, with soft whistles, Kitten spoke to the old horse. Mangle lowered his head, relaxing under the care of the dragonet as she stroked his cheek.

Satisfied that Mangle was in good hands, Daine turned toward the wolves.

The first one to step forward was Russet, judging by his red-brown fur. Daine knelt before the wolf and he sniffed her before licking her cheek. The girl reached out and ran her hand through the thick fur around his neck.

The second wolf was a female with grey fur and a brown stripe that ran along her spine, ending in a ring around her nose. The wolf known as Fleetfoot had distinct amber eyes that looked at Daine with emotions that no wolf should have been capable of conveying.

For a moment something seemed to pass between Fleetfoot and Daine, a silent conversation that Numair knew all too well. Once it was finished, Daine looked over her shoulder at her teacher. She waved him forward and Numair knelt, holding his hand out to the female wolf. Fleetfoot gave his hand an experimental sniff before nearly knocking him over, her eyes alight with excitement as she buried her nose in his hair.

Hiding a giggle behind her hand, Daine explained, “She says you smell good.”

Numair raised an eyebrow, unsure if he should consider Fleetfoot’s assessment a compliment. Curious, Russet stepped forward. On closer inspection, the mage could see that this wolf also had deeply intelligent eyes but tempered by sweetness. Numair offered a hand to Russet who sniffed it tentatively and then sneezed.

“I think he can smell your magic. He says you make his nose itch.”

Fleetfoot yipped indignantly and Daine translated, “Fleetfoot thinks he’s crazy.”

Deciding he liked Fleetfoot, Numair stroked the wolf’s brown stripe in thanks before he stood. The wolves followed him toward Spots who, being Spots, sniffed at the wolves in greeting. They sniffed him back and Russet even nosed him gently.

Finally, Daine introduced the wolves to Kitten and Mangle. The small dragon kept a comforting paw on the old horse as she offered the other to the wolves. At first, the wolves hesitated but eventually sniffed the offered paw and allowed Kitten to pet their fur. Kitten clicked quietly and Mangle took a reluctant step forward so the wolves could sniff him. The wolves moved carefully, knowing that they made the old horse nervous, but when the smell-greeting was completed everyone seemed more at ease.

With everyone introduced, Daine put Kitten back in her pack and mounted Cloud. Numair followed suit, pulling himself into the saddle.

The wolves led the way north, avoiding the main road in favor of old trails frequented by hunters and criminals. Not that the party was particularly concerned about the latter. Not with two powerful mages and wolves among them. Any not concerned by the latter would quickly learn about the former and likely regret their decision with the lack of grace that only those kind of men could manage.

Daine and Numair fell into a comfortable silence as they rode mostly side-by-side. Yet, when he would look over, it was to find Daine deep in thought. The expression only lasted a moment before she noticed him watching and banished her furrowed brow in favor of a reassuring smile. It was strange to have her work so hard to maintain an easy facade. Normally her innate honesty had her confiding in him but Numair was left to wonder.

That night they made camp in a clearing not far from the path. As usual, Numair placed wards around the camp that would keep potential enemies out and hide them from sight.

While he did that, Daine set to grooming the horses. Nothing needed to be said as they each took to the tasks they were best suited to, with Daine pulling out cookware while Numair collected wood for a fire and then working together to start supper. Before long a soup of ham and potatoes was boiling on the fire Numair had started with the wave of his hand, much to Fleetfoot’s delight. Even Kitten tottered over on her hind legs to stir the soup, enamored by the way the steam danced in the firelight.

Settling on his bedroll, Numair loosely encircled his drawn up legs and watched the wolves and horses eye each other. Only Cloud seemed at ease while Spots and Mangle remained varying degrees of wary. The horses trusted the humans to keep them safe but nothing could eradicate generations of mistrust.

He had been contemplating the effects Daine had on normal animal behavior and its limits around ingrained instinct when Kitten nudged his knee with her head. Looking down, he found the dragonet holding out a bowl of soup to him. Numair took the bowl with an affectionate smile and petted Kitten on the head. “Thank you, sweetling.”

She hummed a “your welcome” and scampered off to consume her own dinner sitting beside Mangle, who laid on the ground to support the dragonet.

Daine, rather than eating, looked up and toward the north. The wolves, who had curled around her, looked in the same direction. Their movements were in sync as if they were marionettes and Daine was the puppet master.

The expression on her face spoke of fear, barely concealed by a blank mask of contemplation.

“Daine?” Numair asked, breaking her from her distant thoughts, “Is something wrong?”

“No,” she replied and shook her heads as if to dislodge something, cutting the strings and leaving an uncomfortable air around the camp. Fleetfoot stood, separating from the trio to lay beside Numair while Russet set his head on Daine’s knee.

Picking up her neglected spoon, Daine stared down at the bowl in her hands as if she could see images in the thick chunks of potatoes and meat. “I was just wondering if Onua is managing the Rider’s ponies without me. I know she said she’d be fine but I still feel guilty about leaving her to manage alone.”

Numair set aside his bowl with a deep sigh, “You know very well that Onua managed alone for years before you came to work with her. Why don’t you tell me what’s really bothering you?”

Daine set aside her own bowl and took a deep breath.

“I’m scared,” she confessed quietly.

Numair’s eyebrows rose, “What of?”

Raising a hand, Daine brushed the badger claw around her throat as if she could glean strength from the cool silver. “You remember what I told you about the wolves? About the last time I was with them?”

He didn’t need to hear more to know the cause of her fear, “The odds that you’ll lose contact with your human self again are nonexistent.”

“But-” he held up a hand to stop her argument before it could begin.

“Now, magelet, you can’t possibly be implying that a working performed by your infinitely wise teacher could be anything but perfect?” His words, tinged with a bit of forced humor, had the desired effect as the young woman smirked.

“I would never.”

“Good, because you have nothing to worry about, the shield I placed around your essence will protect you across all your contacts.”

Her smirk died, “What if it wasn’t my magic? What if I simply went mad?”

Cloud appeared, headbutting her master half-heartedly. When Daine scoffed, Numair knew that Cloud was providing Daine with the same reprimand he had been about to administer. She and her pony silently conversed for a moment before Daine huffed in defeat.

“Cloud’s right, you know,” he said, catching Daine’s gaze and holding it in an iron grip, “Do you remember when you first came to Tortall and you allowed me inside of your mind?” She nodded. “If there had been a seed of genuine madness, I would have found it.”

He wasn’t sure he had convinced her until she turned a sideways smile on him, “Some would say you’re the last person to know who’s crazy and who’s not.”

Numair rolled his eyes comically, “I’m not mad, I’m eccentric. There’s a difference.”

“Put whatever fancy title you want on it, Master Numair, it don’t change the facts.”

“The only fact that matters, my magelet, is that you neither are, have been, nor will go mad. Alright?”

“Alright,” she replied but her heart wasn’t in the word.

Even if Numair gave into his urge to open a chasm under that backward village Daine had once called home, it wouldn’t help her conquer those ingrained voices that told her something was wrong with her. Only time could heal the wounds created by men who had tried to hunt her like a rabid animal after tragedy caused her wild magic to overwhelm her human essence. Still, it was tempting. If the gods were merciful, he’d never step foot in Snowsdale.

Numair finished his soup and helped clean up before retrieving a special book from his pack. It was a strange tome that he had previously won from the Graveyard Hag titled, “Wild Magic: A Complete Guide”. Like Daine’s book of immortal myths, the book was well-worn from multiple readings but it had become more like a journal than simple reading material. There were only a few pages unmarked by notes and quick drawings.

Opening to a random page, he gaped as he found a new note written in a messy hand.

_Even though you lost the game, you should know that the wild gods don’t like barrier spells. Call it a consolation prize._

Below the note was a copy of the very spell he had created to protect her from losing herself to the wild.

Looking up suddenly, he found Daine had fallen asleep. Her book was resting open on her chest, rising and falling with each shallow breath. Her chaotic curls laid across the pillow of her bedroll like the smokey brown roots of an ancient tree. She murmured something in her sleep, her eyes clenching and unclenching repeatedly.

Unconsciously, Numair reached out and smoothed the crease across her forehead. Her features became tranquil at his touch, bringing a soft smile to his face.

Sitting back, he watched her sleep as the fire turned to embers, all-the-while pondering the Graveyard Hag’s message.


	3. Not A Savior

It took four more days for the group to make the journey to the mountainous borders of Dunlath but as soon as they passed through the invisible line that separated one fief from another Numair felt his gift begin to buzz under his skin.

With a scowl, Numair pulled Spots to a stop.

Pulling Cloud around in order to return to Numair’s side Daine asked, “Why’d you stop?”

He held up a hand to quiet her as he reached out with his gift. It flowed in tendrils along the ground and came to a stop at the Dunlath border. He cursed.

“There is an occult net over the valley.”

“A what?”

“A barrier designed to sense magic. I’m sure anyone else would have assumed that it was caused by the proximity to the City of the Gods, seeing as the area is so drenched in magic that it would be difficult to sense a specific spell, but it’s definitely there.”

Daine frowned, “So, does that mean someone knows we’re here?”

“No, not unless I were to use my gift in an active spell. Identification, wards, and scrying are all passive magics.”

Daine nodded and looked toward Fleetfoot and Russet who were waiting ahead of them. After a moment she turned back to Numair, “The wolves say the den isn’t far. We should be there in about an hour.”

“Good,” Numair replied as he urged Spots forward again.

Numair knew the moment they came within range of the den as the wolves broke into a run. Daine spurred Cloud after them, leaving a cursing Numair and an equally perturb Kitten in her wake. The mage passed Kitten an exasperated look before urging Spots into a trot. Mangle dutifully followed.

When Numair and Spots emerged from the trees, it was to find Daine kneeling before a large black and grey wolf. She moved slowly, hesitantly reaching out with trembling finger to touch the shaggy fur at the wolf’s neck. The animal stepped forward, urging her further and Daine seemed to melt, falling forward to hug the great wolf. 

Numair dismounted a few steps away, allowing him to see the tears that fell from Daine’s eyes just before she buried her face into the wolf’s fur. He unconsciously stepped toward her, his hand outstretched in a need to comfort her. The wolf bared his teeth at the mage, revealing a partially missing left incisor and stopping Numair in his tracks.

Daine pulled away and wiped at her eyes impatiently.

“Don’t,” she told the wolf aloud, “He’s a friend.”

The wolf didn’t look convinced so Daine moved to stand beside her teacher.

“Brokefang, this is Numair. He’s my pack now.”

The wolf stepped forward and Numair held out a hand to him. Brokefang sniffed it twice and then nodded his approval in a very unwolf-like way. Numair bowed his head to the wolf in a respectful greeting, a warm feeling spreading through his chest at the combination of Daine’s words and Brokefang’s approval. 

Brokefang yipped and four other adult wolves emerged from the cave followed by a handful of cubs. The wolves mobbed the young woman. 

Her tears flowed freely, tempered by a grin of sheer delight.

In the chaos, Daine motioned for Numair to kneel beside her. Unlike with Daine, the wolves treated him with suspicion. It was only when Fleetfoot moved forward to bury her nose in Numair’s hair (as had become her favorite show of affection toward the mage) that the rest of the wolves began to approach him one by one. Each gave him a sniff and some even went so far as to lick his face. Even the pups were excited to meet the man with what Daine translated as “cold light”.

Not one to be ignored, Kitten peaked out of her pack to whistle in annoyance. Daine moved to retrieve her but Numair waved her off, straightening to pull the dragonet from her pack and set her on the ground.

Daine smiled as the pups were the first to approach the often frightening Kitten. The dragonet was well aware of her effect on mortal animals and mimicked Numair’s actions, holding out a forepaw for the young wolves to sniff. Soon the pups were yipping and surrounding Kitten in a request to play. She gladly agreed, allowing the pups to climb on her and rolling over occasionally to displace any who succeeded in balancing on her back.

Once the greetings were finished, Daine came face to face with Brokefang. Something passed between them and Numair waited patiently for Daine to acknowledge him once more.

“Brokefang wants to show us something,” she said finally.

Numair waved the wolf ahead and Daine turned to Kitten, “Are you coming?”

Kitten shook her head, motioning to her new playmates.

“Alright,” Daine replied, “make sure they don’t scare the horses.”

The dragonet nodded and returned to her games.

Brokefang bounded into the treeline, leading Daine and Numair along the cliff face until a sharp drop appeared on the horizon. Brokefang stopped short to pin Daine and Numair with a warning look. “He says we have to stay within the line of the trees so that the two-leggers won’t see us.”

“Alright,” said Numair, confused but not sure what question to ask. It was ultimately unnecessary as the valley came into view.

A vast complex of tunnels and canyon-like holes spread across the section of the valley closest to the cliffs. Tall creatures with bluish skin and mashed faces hauled construction materials to where they were needed while the vicious bat-winged horses known as hurroks were lashed to heavy wagons. Short human-like creatures with grey-green skin, shaggy orange hair, large ears, and tiny flightless bat wings marched into a tunnel with pickaxes in hand. 

Every immortal present had leather collars around their necks, which Numair recognized immediately. It was the mark of the archaic magic meant to bind a creature to a master by force rather than mutual benefit. He hadn’t seen their like since his flight from Carthak and had wished to never see them again.

“They’re slaves,” said Numair, his voice hollow, “They’re all slaves.”

One of the giants dropped to his knees from exhaustion. A man in a leather jerkin stepped forward and yelled for the immortal to rise. When the giant didn’t obey he sent a steel-plated whip lashing across the creature’s back. It came back covered in blue-grey blood, leaving long gashes in its wake. The giant fell into a fetal position, trying to protect itself from the pain.

A tendril of copper light, Daine’s wild magic, reached out toward the giant. When it touched the creature the giant’s wounds began to knit together.

Confused, the soldier with the whip stopped to stare at the giant’s healing back. Then, as if offended by the sight, he scowled and began beating the giant even harder.

Blood dripped from Daine’s nose as another lash connected and then healed instantly but she continued to stare at the giant with unblinking eyes, her chin rising in defiance of what healing the giant was costing her.

“Daine, you have to stop,” said Numair, unconscious fear coloring his voice.

She shook her head.

Cursing, he grabbed her hand and his shadowy gift was drawn from him, instantly wrapping around the copper thread to bolster its power.

Numair’s view of the world changed as their magics intertwined with plants becoming veined in glowing green light while mountain stone sparkled with silver.

The whip cracked and another lash landed across the giant’s back, sending droplets of illuminated blue-green into the air. Numair felt the giant’s wound across his own skin making him wince. Bypassing Daine’s control, he willed the combined magics through the whip’s leather and steel.

The soldier yelped and dropped the weapon, leaving a red-hot brand across his palm. The whip turned to ash as it hit the ground.

Other soldiers ran up to help their comrade, the disobedient giant forgotten in the face of such strange events.

Daine and Numair's magic drew back as the giant rose from the ground and turned. As if he could sense where his miracle had come from, the giant stared directly at the place where Daine and Numair stood shielded by the trees.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” said Numair, pulling both his hand and magic away from Daine. He wanted to be angry at her for being so reckless, she could have easily killed herself trying to heal an immortal like that, but all he felt was awe. “Why did you do it?”

“Because whatever they’re getting from the ground can’t be worth all that. All the pain.”

Numair sighed, “I wish everyone saw things that way. Most don’t see the cost, they only see in terms of money and power.”

“What kind of person hurts others just to feel powerful?” Daine asked in open disbelief.

“A person without empathy, which is, unfortunately, a common occurrence in our modern times.”

Daine grimaced, “Sometimes I think I might have been better off living with the wolves.”

Numair bowed his head to hide the hurt in his eyes and remained silent. He could understand the appeal. Things were simpler among the animals, with no concept of time beyond the changing of the seasons and no compulsion toward violence for the sake of ego. Still, the very thought of a life without Daine was nearly crippling.

As if sensing his thoughts, Daine let out a long breath, “But I’m not a wolf.”

A small yip reminded them that Brokefang was still there, watching with curious eyes.

“It’s not that easy,” Daine said to the wolf, “We can’t take them all ourselves.”

Brokefang growled low and turned to trot back toward the den.

In his wake, Daine suddenly looked exhausted.

“What did he say?” asked Numair.

“He doesn’t understand. He said it’s good I’m not a wolf because I can stop the mining and bring back the game.” Daine collapsed in on herself, “They see what I can do now and think I can save them but I don’t know if I can.”

“We’ll try either way,” he promised.

She gave him a small smile, “Thank you, Numair. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He smiled back in reassurance, “Gods willing, you won’t find out for a very long time.”

“Gods willing,” she repeated, the words a heartfelt prayer.

Stunned, Numair was left uncharacteristically speechless as he watched her turn to follow Brokefang back to the den. She had walked a few steps before realizing he had made no move to follow. “Aren’t you coming?”

Numair kept his eyes to the ground as he moved to join her, “Yes. I’m right behind you.”


	4. Reflective Surfaces

The next morning, Numair awoke to find Daine already up and doing the morning’s chores. She was moving quickly but not eagerly, a reluctance in the way she set about creating order from chaos.

“You’re up early,” he remarked as he sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. The sun was barely peeking above the horizon, most of the world still asleep.

Daine stiffened but didn’t respond, moving instead to pour tea from the kettle. When she held the cup out to him he grabbed her wrist instead, taking the cup and setting it aside with his opposite hand. She wouldn’t meet his gaze despite the way he held her in place.

“Daine, look at me.”

When she did, he saw the way her eyes glistened in the early morning light.

“What’s wrong?”

Her shoulders drooped in resignation, “I swear by the gods, you can read my mind.”

“It’s not magic, just simple observation. Now, stop trying to change the subject.”

She averted her eyes again, “I, uh, need to show you something.”

Frowning, Numair stood and followed her out of the cave. She led him to a dense patch of brush that, at first appeared nondescript, until she moved a fallen branch aside. Hidden amongst the deadfall was a variety of tools for use in mining.

“Where did these come from?”

Daine focused her attention on a pebble, toeing it with a scuffed boot. “The wolves stole them from the mining camp.”

Numair’s eyebrows rose incrementally as Daine explained, “I dreamed that I was running with the pack. I could feel the wind, smell the earth, taste the kill. Then I woke up and Brokefang was standing over me. He said that he enjoyed running with me last night! That he was glad I told them which tools were important! I didn’t want them to steal the tools, I know it isn’t that simple but I wasn’t thinking like a human! I forgot who I am! It’s being around the wolves again I’m-” She dropped the last of her words, letting them hang in the air like dagger poised to slice her to pieces.

“You’re not losing yourself,” he scolded.

“How do you know?” she asked, her quiet voice haunted by the whispers of her inner demons.

His chest tightening at the shadows in her eyes, he reached up and brushed a stray curl from her cheek, “Daine, what you are describing is symbiosis, the ability to combine minds with another being for mutual benefit. A perfectly controllable ability and the next natural step in the evolution of your magic. You don’t have anything to fear. You were asleep and your magic got away from you. That’s all.”

She let out a long breath, releasing her doubts into the early morning fog.

“Good,” said Numair, passing her a reassuring smile, “Now, about these tools. I doubt anyone will come looking for them here. I mean, what two-legger would believe a bunch of wolves stole tools?”

“I s’pose you’re right.”

“Of course I am. Still, it would probably be best to take some time to experiment with this new ability now rather than later. Lest you start teaching mice to make cheese or something equally ridiculous.”

Her smile at his joke was short lived as she tried to hide the hesitation Numair had glimpsed, “Just promise me that you won’t let me go wild.”

“Daine-” he began, his frustration dripping into his tone but she shook her head.

“I just need you to promise me, alright?”

Stepping in front of her, he took each of her hands into his, “I promise. You have absolutely nothing to fear.”

“Thank you,” she said softly, her burden slowly lifting from her shoulders until she managed to look up at him with a smile.

He smiled back and led her back to the cave where he took up a seat next to the wall. Daine took a deep breath and joined him.

As they had a hundred times before, they fell into meditation. Tendrils of their magic, her copper fire, and his shadowy gift, twined around each other so that Numair could see and hear the world as Daine experienced it.

 _Cloud?_ He heard Daine say, speaking to her pony with her magic. _Can I try the_ symbo _-thing with you?_

He heard Cloud’s voice as clear as if he pony were speaking aloud, _If you must._

 _Thank you_ , Daine replied in spite of Cloud’s snippy tone.

Slowly a tendril of Daine’s wild magic stretched across the short distance toward Cloud, but as soon as it touched the pony she whinnied in pain.

_OUCH!_

_I’m sorry,_ replied Daine before she turned to Numair with a furrowed brow. “I don’t understand. My magic has never hurt her before.”

Numair’s expression matched his student’s “It may be the way you’re applying it. Don’t force it. Just let it go.”

He could feel Daine nod and she tried once more, letting her magic drift toward the pony. Cloud full-on snapped when it touched her again.

_THAT HURTS!_

Numair and Daine sighed as one.

_Maybe without the magic,_ suggested Cloud, her voice softening under Daine’s obvious frustration. _You don’t need it to speak to me. Why would you need it to see through me? Try the listening thing instead._

Numair shrugged, “Cloud does know you best.”

Daine took a deep breath and Numair could hear everything she could; a squirrel jumping from branch to branch in search of acorns to be kept for the big cold, the wolves in the distance as they howled in victory over their prey, the baby birds who were learning to fly on unsure wings.

“Focus,” Numair urged softly.

She did, looking for those sounds that were Cloud. The breaths that came through tired nostrils and the heartbeat that thudded proud and strong.

Daine’s concentration was broken when a bird fluttered across the mouth of the cave and the entire forest bore down on her with sounds of its daily business.  
  
Numair gently disconnected his magic from hers. “We’ll try again once you’re rested. There’s no point in exhausting yourself further.”

Daine’s yawn punctuated his words.

Smiling, he stood and retrieved her bedroll. When he laid it out, she crawled over to it gratefully and snuggled down between the folds. Within seconds she was asleep.

The sun was already at the midpoint, the time lost while he had been with Daine and her wild magic. During some point, Kitten had awoken and was busy building towers of pebbles next to the nearby pond so that the frisky pups could knock them over.

The adult wolves were sleeping soundly, only his admirer Fleetfoot raising her head when Numair moved toward the mouth of the cave. The wolf rose and stretched to join him as he walked down to the pond’s edge. Kitten looked up at their approach, trilling a question.

“She’s asleep. Trying to use her magic to see through Cloud’s eyes exhausted her,” Numair answered as if he could understand when, in reality, Kitten could have been asking him about the weather.

Kitten whistled a second question as Numair moved to crouch next to the water.

“Scrying,” he replied, “I’d like to know who is watching over this valley.”

Kitten abandoned her game with the pups to join him. Even the smallest magical workings fascinated Kitten who watched as Numair waved his hand over the reflective surface of the water.

A perfect black circle appeared and then slowly faded until Numair was greeted with the sight of prison bars made of chartreuse light. He cursed, vividly and loudly. Kitten gripped her muzzle with a forepaw, reminding him that he should be quiet. Sighing, he petted the dragonet in gratitude before dispelling the image.

“This is bad. Whoever is behind the occult net is more powerful than I could have predicted. There are blocking spells spun into the fabric of the net, making it nearly impossible to scry or sense other gifts being used. That combined with the already muddling proximity to the City of the Gods and I’m basically blind!”

 _This place is a secret wrapped inside secrets_ , a familiar voice spoke from within his mind and Numair turned to find a large silver-clawed badger standing beside him. The badger god looked down at the water as if he too saw images in the reflective surface. Slowly he turned to look at Numair with eyes that were omniscient, if not a little perturbed, _Why would you bring her here?_

“You know how stubborn Daine can be. I would have had to cage her to stop her,” The mage’s own tone made it clear that he would see himself burn before seeing Daine imprisoned.

The badger sighed in resignation, _It’s very true. She’s a good kit, but sometimes she’s enough to make an old badger crazy._ He reached up and patted Numair as if he were a child in need of comfort, _I didn’t come all this way to reprimand you. I actually came to help._

“Help how?” asked Numair, unable to keep the suspicion from his voice. Suddenly the note from the Graveyard Hag came to mind.

_I saw her trying to see through the eyes of animals. I’m glad you have convinced her to explore her power but I feel you missed a piece of crucial information in all your...readings._

Numair had to work to keep himself from glowering as the Badger’s not-so-veiled reference to the book made him even more suspicious, “Please, enlighten me.”

_Daine’s magic is as much a part of her as your gift is a part of you. Separating her magical self from her human self is doing her no good. She may be able to learn how to see through the People’s eyes eventually but she’ll never reach her full potential with that spell holding her back._

“Breaking that wall is easier said than done,” said Numair, “She’s terrified of losing herself, even with my spell there, and believe me if I could simply erase her fears I would have done it a long time ago.”

 _She’ll never be able to take the next step unless she learns to conquer her doubts_ , said the badger, his words more chiding than instructional. _Or would you rather she remain blind to her ability?_

“Of course not. That would be worse than caging her.”

Numair knew the badger was right but that didn’t stop the dread from consuming him. Damn goddess and her meddling, what reason had Numair ever been given to distrust the Badger? The god cared for Daine as if she were his own daughter. Meanwhile, the Graveyard Hag had been a conniving presence from the start.

“You should speak to her,” Numair said finally, “She’ll listen to you.”

_Yes, but she trusts you. Talk to her, convince her to let go of the past once and for all._

“How?”

_You’re clever, for a mortal, I’m sure you’ll think of a way._

And just like that, the badger-god disappeared in a cloud of silver mist. Kitten made a noise, angered on Numair’s behalf that the badger would simply vanish without so much as a goodbye.

“It’s alright, sweetling, I’ve long given up on being offended by the carelessness of gods,” he told the dragonet, running a slow hand down her spine.

As he continued petting Kitten, Numair looked down at his reflection in the water. He could see his magic surround him, shadowing his features and turning him into that dark creature that left most others shuttering. With a deep breath, he pulled his magic back into himself. How could he possibly help Daine conquer a fear he still struggled with every day?

Kitten stood up on her hind legs and rested a forepaw on his arm. Seeing her concern, he offered the dragonet a smile.

“Don’t worry, little one. I promised Daine I wouldn’t let her lose herself and I meant it.”

The dragonet made a soft sound and bowed her head, walking away from him slowly.


	5. Black

Daine didn’t wake until the next morning, stretching the stiffness from her limbs with a deep groan.

“Good morning, magelet,” Numair said from where he’d been sitting next to the cave entrance, stroking Fleetfoot’s head and reading from his book.

Brokefang rose from among the napping wolves to trot over to Daine. She reached up and petted his neck with a furrowed brow before turning her confusion on her teacher.

“Is everything alright?” she asked him.

“Let’s just say that you missed some things while you slept.”

“Well, that sounds bad.”

Numair looked down, “That depends on your perspective. Personally, I could have done without a visit from your guardian badger.” 

Daine’s eyebrows rose, “What did he want?”

Numair closed his book slowly, hesitation in his every movement, but he managed to keep his tone light as long as he didn’t look at her. “He came specifically to call my ability as your teacher into question.”

“Is that so?” What should have been a question sounded like an accusation to Numair’s ears.

“Yes. He believes that I have done you a disservice by maintaining the barrier between you and your magic.” He ignored Daine’s sharp intake of breath and continued to speak distantly, “Of course, I defended myself. It is your decision as to when you wish to learn to control your magic without my spell to protect you. Not mine.”

He kept his focus on Fleetfoot, petting her as the silence stretched. Part of him wanted to look at Daine, that innate need to comfort her rising to the surface, but the logical part of him knew that it would do neither of them any good.

“Do you agree with him?” she asked finally, her voice barely a whisper.

He shook his head, “I cannot say.”

“Why not?”

“Because I will not influence your decision. You alone have to determine if your fear is greater than your desire to learn the extent of your gift.”

Again silence settled over the cave, only broken by the movement of animals. First, it was Cloud, who shook out her mane and eyed Numair angrily. Second was when Brokefang moved to stand beside the mage, looking toward Daine with a sad determination.

“You’ve been thinking about this for a long time,” Daine said, a hint of frustration in her voice, “Brokefang says you were up all night meditating.”

“My gift was being particularly...restless last night.” It wasn’t a lie but it wasn’t the full truth either. Not that his half-truth spared Daine, she knew exactly why his gift would be reacting tumultuously. “I want you to think long and hard about this. It’s not a decision you should make lightly because once I remove the spell, I won’t put it back.”

“Alright,” she replied, “I’ll think about it.”

“Good,” he stood, “And while you’re thinking, we should continue our mission here and start searching for the Ninth.”

Daine nodded reluctantly, “I’ll get everyone saddled.”

 

They started north, deciding that the best route would be to circle around the mines as closely as possible without being seen by any patrols and back toward the wolves’ den. It was when they passed close to a large storage house that Numair pulled up.

“Is there any way you could get one of your friends to get a look inside that building? We need to know what it is they are pulling from the mines.”

Daine nodded and closed her eyes. The wind whistled through the trees, bringing with it a metallic smell. While Daine was speaking to the animals, Numair reached out with his gift and felt the ground under their feet. There was a power in this area, unlike any other. It played with his magic, making it expand and recede as if he were standing near the mouth of a sleeping giant.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Daine said after a while. When Numair looked to her, she explained. “There was a squirrel who said that they’re pulling shiny stones from the earth, stones like glass which makes me think gemstones but they don’t sound like any gems I’ve ever heard of. He said they looked like colorful fire trapped in a piece of the night sky.”

Numair dug into his shirt and pulled out a necklace that was normally hidden from view. It was an oval stone with a smooth rather than faceted face but it was far more beautiful than any other gemstone. It looked like a nebula trapped inside of glass, changing in color as the afternoon sun refracted against the different colors trapped within its dark depths.

“What is that?” Daine asked in awe.

“A black opal. They are extremely rare but coveted by mages for their ability to hold a vast quantity of magic as well as enhance spells to near unbreakability. This one cost me a fortune but I considered it worth the gold as I was able to imbue it with enough of my gift that if I ever find myself in a sticky situation I could use it to escape rather than, I don’t know, get stuck in a hawk form.”

She smirked at his reference to the way they had met, “Sounds like a much better plan.”

Numair nodded, “If that is what they are mining here, our position just got a lot more precarious. A high-level battle mage using a black opal would make what happened at Pirate’s Swoop seem like a snowball fight.”

Daine shuddered at the thought and Numair didn’t blame her. “Yes, that’s what they are mining. That’s what Jump saw.”

“We shouldn’t linger,” Numair said as he tucked the stone back into his shirt, “They’re likely keeping a close eye on this area.”

Daine nodded and urged Cloud forward.

 

They were about an hour’s ride from the den when Daine suddenly pulled Cloud to a stop. A moment later she began rubbing her ears as if trying to clear something from them.

“What is it?” Numair asked.

She rubbed her ears more fiercely, “It’s like I’m deaf. I can’t hear any of the animals.”

Numair frowned and reached out with his gift, feeling the world around him. There was a void nearby, a place his magic couldn’t touch. He dismounted, handing Daine his mount’s reins.

“Stay here,” he told her and followed his gift to the source.

He came to a stop at the edge of a perfectly round clearing made of ash. The surrounding trees were charred, the wood glistening from being exposed to intense heat. Near the center of the crater, a flag depicting a rearing white horse on a crimson field stuck out of the ground. It was half-missing, the rest of it having been burned away and the tattered edge seared into a seam. Near the blackened staff, a green number nine had been painted on the cloth.

“My gods,” Numair whispered as he took in the sight of what could only be described as a massacre. There was no way to tell who lay in the dark graveyard as all that was left of the men, women, and ponies were charcoal skeletons. He could only count the skulls.

His gift reached out to touch the flag and he was hit by the screams of the dead. They tore through him like claws against his soul until he almost screamed for want of peace.

It arrived in the form of his name, spoken with fearful concern.

Turning away from the flag, he found blue-grey eyes reflecting his shadows back at him. They danced around his body, his gift fueled by his pain. The sound of cracking stone rang through the clearing but Daine was unaffected by it, holding his gaze as she stepped forward and took his hand.

The world stilled, frozen in time as he came back to himself.

At her touch, his magic retreated violently. The shadows collapsed back into his chest as if pulled by an undertow to drown in the wild magic that flowed through their joined hands to seep into his veins.

“Daine,” he murmured and the hand of the clock began to tick forward again.

“Are you alright?”

His brow furrowed, his thoughts trapped between shadow and flame. “I don’t know. What happened?”

She smiled softly at him, “Look down.”

He did and saw that the black edge of the crater had disappeared, swallowed up by a thick carpet of grass. Following the edge of the grass, he realized that it created a perfect circle, covering the entirety of a gentle mound that had risen in place of the crater. In the center remained the tattered flag, wrapped in the vines of a crawling bush that already bloomed with small white roses.

“Where-”

“I don’t know if I’m honest. The ground just sort of opened and swallowed the bones. Then the grass grew. At first, I thought you were doing it on purpose but then I saw your eyes. It was like you weren’t in your head.”

Slowly he began to understand what had happened. 

“I wasn’t,” he said simply, “I wasn’t in control. I’m sorry.”

“What for?” she asked, “Where was the harm?” Scanning the area, her expression fell into a pained frown, “They shouldn’t have died like this. They deserve some peace.”

Numair had to work to control his anger as his gift surged, “Whoever did this is the worst kind of mage. A being void of empathy.”

She took his hand once more, her grip tight, “Do you- Do you think Evin was here?”

Numair sighed as the memory of the screams settled in his chest like a stone, “No. They died before he sent the letter.”

Daine’s eyes flicked to him with questions she couldn’t voice.

“Then we’ll look for him tomorrow,” she said instead, dragging him back toward their waiting mounts.

 

When they returned to the den, they set about their nightly chores with a sense of sadness and distraction. Daine had brushed the same large black splotch on Spots multiple times while Numair had spent far too long composing a letter to the king. When it was finished and tied to the leg of an amenable sparrow-hawk, Numair set to trying to start a fire with flint and steel but every time he would get some of the tinder to catch he would get lost in a wayward thought and let it snuff out.

By his third try, Daine had given up trying to provide the horses with a thorough brushing and had come to kneel beside him.

“Let me,” she said, holding out her hands for the flint and steel.

The first spray of sparks lept into the kindling, igniting it immediately. Numair watched as she nursed the fledgling flame with long easy breaths, worrying at the day’s events like an old scab. He shouldn’t have lost control like he had. He was lucky that he hadn’t hurt Daine. Even the thought that he could have was enough to make his blood run cold.

“Numair?”

He blinked, pulling himself from his dire thoughts to focus on his student, “Yes?”

She stared down at the catching fire for a long moment before finally answering, “I need to know what you think about the shield.”

He sighed heavily and bowed his head, “Daine, I won’t-”

“Stop. Just listen, alright?

“I’ve been thinking about it like you said, but I keep coming back to how afraid I am of losing myself. Then we found the riders and, well, after what you did I understood why you wouldn’t tell me your thoughts. I know you struggle to control your power sometimes but it was a different thing to actually see you lose control like that.

“That’s why I need you to tell me. If you were me, what would you do?”

Numair wasn’t sure if it was the plea in her voice or her understanding expression that made him answer. “In Carthak I was separated from my power when the Emperor placed me in his dungeon. I’ve never felt as empty as I did then. My magic is a part of me. An amazing and frightening thing but a part of me nonetheless. I walk the razor's edge and, if I’m honest, it’s exhausting but I wouldn’t want it any other way,” he raised his head, letting her see the conflict in his features, “because, while my greatest fear is that I’ll hurt someone I care about, my greatest joy comes from the knowledge that I can protect those that need protecting. 

“I can’t tell you if it would be worth the fight because I still don’t know. All I can tell you is that the world is a complicated place and only you can decide what part you want to play in it.”

Daine took a deep breath before turning clear and level eyes on him, “Then take the barrier away.”

“Are you sure?” he asked softly.

She nodded but the hesitation in her voice said far more than her words, “You’re going to keep your promise, right? You won’t let me go wild?” 

“Yes,” he replied, well aware of the weight his promise carried.

She tried to smile at him but it fell flat, “Then what do I have to be afraid of?”

Numair watched with apprehensive eyes as Daine turned her back to him and closed her eyes, silently giving him permission to enter her mind. 

Taking a fortifying breath, Numair shifted until he was kneeling behind her. His gift jumped to his fingertips as he settled his index and middle fingers on each of her temples. Her magic reached toward him, tearing at his gift in its need to be unleashed. The way his gift seemed more than ready to comply only increased Numair’s apprehension.

“Be ready,” he murmured to her, “when I break the spell your magic will react.”

“I am,” she replied but her voice trembled.

His gift quickly found the wall that separated the copper magic from the white light of her essence. As soon as the black tendril touched the wall, it shattered as if it had been nothing more than thin glass.

The copper light brightened, growing as if someone had added something combustible to the flames, but instead of reaching for her life force, as Numair was afraid it would, it reached for the shadowy threads of his gift.

Gift and wild magic danced around each other like mischievous youths around Beltane fires. When they touched, a bolt of painful electricity shot across Numair’s skin and he snatched his fingers away from her. It did nothing to break the connection as his magic refused to be controlled, fighting him everytime he tried to withdraw it. Daine’s magic did the same, reaching for the shadowy tendrils almost desperately. It was only through the sheer force of will that the respective mages managed to contain their magics within their physical bodies. The moment his gift was contained, Numair put a ward over himself to shut the door on her power so that he could no longer feel it’s pull and opened eyes he didn’t know he had closed. 

Daine sat stiffly before him, staring off into the distance. With the lingering magical sight left by his connection to her, he found copper tendrils shooting out in a hundred different directions. Squirrels, birds, and mice streamed into the cave to gather around her, entranced like avid worshippers around an idol. The more animals drawn to her, the more her magic brightened until she was consumed by wild light. 

“Daine!” he snapped and his voice had an immediate effect. Her power collapsed back into her and the animals that had gathered scattered, freed from her magic to continue their daily lives as if nothing had happened.

Daine turned on him, her face frozen in an emotion he couldn’t name. She searched his features for something but it was only when their eyes met that he understood what- she was terrified to think she had made a mistake.

His vast command of language failed him so, in lieu of speech, he tentatively reached out and cupped her cheek. All the tension drained away from her as he assured her that he was there to keep her from losing herself to the magic. 

Yet as he watched her expression soften into familiar affection, Numair realized something far more complicated had passed between them.

“Numair?” she asked suddenly and he realized he was frowning.

To cover up his momentary lapse he looked past Daine to the mouth of the cave where the rain was now pouring as if from a bucket, “I should set the wards with a heat-trapping spell.”

She sighed, “I swear, sometimes you jump from thought to thought faster than a squirrel.”

He tried to smile but he knew the expression was absent of true mirth, “What can I say? It makes me an extremely entertaining instructor.”

“It makes you hard to follow,” Daine replied but there was no venom in her voice, “Sometimes I can’t tell if you’re worried about something important or just afraid of the cold.”

He raised an eyebrow, “You should probably assume it’s always the cold. I hate being cold.”

She shook her head in mock annoyance and moved to settle at the far side of the cave to meditate. Numair did the same, putting as much distance between them as possible while being in the same cavern. 

It was something that happened without discussion, the only sign that they had both been unnerved by the recent events.

Settling into that familiar limbo, Numair’s gift flickered around him as it always did before he pulled it back into himself.

By the time he had completed his task, Daine had crawled into her bedroll and was fast asleep.

Blinking forth his magical sight he found that her magic was contained within her but her grasp on it was tenuous, the copper light pushing at the boundaries she had set for it. So, for her safety more than anything, he set the wards on the cave with an extra layer of protection that would keep her magic contained encase she lost control while she slept. Part of him prayed she wouldn’t. He didn’t think he’d be able to contain his own gift for a third time.


	6. Inn Keys

The next morning Numair awoke to the sight of a pair of golden eyes staring down at him from over a vicious-looking beak. At first, he was startled, then he noticed the piece of parchment in the sparrowhawk's beak and recognized the king’s seal.

Sitting up, he held out his hand under the bird’s beak and waited for it to dutifully drop the letter into his palm. As soon as it had, the sparrow-hawk flew out of the cave. He followed its path to find Daine sitting next to the cave entrance, meditating beside a relaxed Brokefang.

The wolf looked up as soon as Numair looked over, locking gazes with the mage. That was when he noticed that the wolf’s normally silver eyes had turned a smokey grey-blue. It was a color he’d recognize anywhere.

“Uh, Daine?” he asked without thought.

Her eyes opened and Brokefang’s eyes returned to their natural silver color. Daine turned to him with a soft smile on her face.

“I did it,” she breathed, “I could see through Brokefang’s eyes.”

Numair smiled at her, glad to see that she was managing to navigate her fears with far more grace than he ever had, “That’s good to hear. Were there any side effects?”

She shook her head, “Nothing I couldn’t handle. The wards you put on the cave seemed to help.”

He looked away from her knowing eyes, “It’s not that I didn’t think you were capable of maintaining control, I just wanted you to get some uninterrupted rest.”

She offered him a grateful nod, “Well, thank you either way.”

Numair waved away her thanks and made a show of turning his attention to the king’s letter.

Breaking the seal, he cursed as he quickly read the contents and then cursed again as he noticed the rite of travel with both his and Daine’s names on it.

“What is it?” asked Daine as she stood to read the letter over his shoulder.

Numair saved her the trouble by holding up the letter for her to take, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. When they got back to the capital, Numair was going to have a very long talk with His Majesty. Or maybe George. This seemed more like the Spy Master’s style than Jonathan’s.

“That doesn’t seem so bad,” said Daine after a moment, handing the letter back to him, “You act as if he asked us to walk to the gallows, not spend the night in a tavern.”

Numair eyed his student narrowly, “That’s because, my magelet, you don’t understand the complex plan behind his orders. Our arrival at the village, well at least my arrival, will most assuredly lead to the attention of the Lord of Dunlath. If he’s smart we’ll only be subject to a formal dinner. If he isn’t we’ll be publically arrested on some sort of baseless accusation. The king lowered the likelihood of the latter by providing us with that rite but I don’t like the fact that he’s put us in a very precarious position.”

Daine tried to turn her head away before he saw the darkness that crept into her gaze, “It sounds like a good idea to me. A dinner would be the perfect time to talk to the castle animals and find out where Evin is.”

“Yes, because walking right into the lion’s jaws is a wonderful idea. I’m looking forward to it.”

“It’s better than waiting around to see what happens. Or do you really want to be here when the snows come?”

He grimaced at the thought. “Not that we have much of a choice. There’s disobeying the king’s orders then there’s blatant disregard for the safety of the realm.” He eyed her warily, “Are you sure you’re ready for this? A stressful situation like this could make it harder to control your magic. Mithros knows mine is already turned tempestuous at the thought.” Numair was exaggerating for effect but it did little to temper the aloof shrug he received from his student.

“Well, we aren’t going to find Evin inside this cave.”

“How cavalier,” he replied sarcastically but stood to start gathering things into packs.

“Focus on the good, Numair,” said Daine as she moved to help him pack, “At least tonight we’ll be sleeping in a nice warm inn.”

“Begrudgingly, I have to admit you have a good point.”

 

They took a long route back to the village, looping back through the forest to pass through the southern gate. When Daine asked why Numair had chosen such a roundabout way, he explained that if they were going to appear as travelers on their way to the City of the Gods than having avoided the gate would appear suspicious.

They didn’t pull into the stables of the singular inn at the castle village until afternoon. 

A stable boy came out to take their mounts but Numair dismissed the boy with a silver coin and found the grooming supplies from their packs.

As he handed Daine one of the brushes, she looked at him gratefully and went to grooming Cloud while he did the same for Spots. Neither of them spoke as they worked, just happy to have a final moment of peace before they allowed themselves to be thrown into the fray.

After the animals were cared for, Daine secured Kitten in her traveling pack and slung it over her shoulder before following Numair into the inn.

A jolly innkeeper waited for them, his smile too large to be greeting strangers.

“‘Elcome sir! ‘Ow canna be of service?”

Numair flashed the coin the man had obviously been waiting for, the gold round that marked the tall man in plain riding clothes as someone of status.

“Two rooms for my student and I, if you would.”

The man’s eyes widened at the sight of gold, his head bobbing like a woodpecker.

“A’ ya wish, sir! I ‘ave two nice rooms overlookin’ the gardens jus for ya! And dere’s even a door ‘twixed ‘em!”

Numair eyed the man darkly, not liking what the man was suggesting at all, “Then I expect that door to be locked and the key to remain within your possession. I will not have my student privy to idle gossip due to your assumption.”

The man actively blanched, making Numair feel a little guilty. Sighing, he pressed a couple extra coins into the man’s hand, “We will also require baths and food at your convenience.”

“Yessir,” the innkeeper replied and scurried off to make sure all of Numair’s requests were attended to. He returned a few moments later with three keys, one of which he made a show of placing into the pocket of his apron.

Numair took the other two keys and passed one to Daine who had remained disturbingly silent during the entire transaction, though the curious look she gave him spoke volumes about his behavior. 

“Your baths will be ready in da hour and I’ll send ya meals up after,” the words were spoken like a question, compounding Numair’s guilt over having been so harsh to the man.

“Thank you, master innkeep,” Numair said with his friendliest smile, vainly trying to rewrite the impression he had made on the man.

“No, dank ya, sir,” the innkeeper replied with a deep bow that was made unrefined by his rather large pot belly.

Diane and Numair walked up the stairs indicated by the innkeeper and separated into their rooms without a word.


	7. Moves and Counter Moves

Numair had just finished his late lunch when there was a knock on the door. He opened it and was met by a thin boy in a soldier’s uniform. The sight alone of a boy who couldn’t be more than twelve dressed like a soldier was enough to make Numair ill.

“Beggin’ yer pardon, sir, but I ‘ave a note from me mistress. She asks dat you and yer companion come to de castle fur supper.”

Numair smiled at the boy and held out his hand for the piece of parchment the boy held in both hands as if he were afraid to drop it. With wide eyes, the boy slowly placed the missive in Numair’s hand before turning on his heel and sprinting down the stairs.

Frowning at the boy’s sudden exit, Numair closed the door and broke the wax seal on the note. In neat, regal, handwriting was a formal invitation to dine at the castle addressed to Master Numair Salmalin and his Student. He grimaced at the title given to Daine as if she were no better than her connection to him. If their illustrious hosts had any idea of her power they would treat her with the respect she deserved. 

Suddenly the door between his room and Daine’s made a whistling noise and swung open, revealing a curious dragonet and his still half-asleep magelet.

With raised eyebrows, he looked at Daine, “Um, did I know Kitten could whistle locks open?”

Daine shook her head and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, “No more than I did.”

“Have you been pilfering from my library again?” he asked Kitten with a pointed glare that didn’t even seem to register with the dragonet as she was already moving into his room to explore all the nooks and crannies available to her inquisitive appendages. 

Turning to Daine with an exasperated sigh he said, “Well, she did save me the trouble of knocking on your door. As predicted, we have been invited to dinner. I didn’t ask earlier but you brought a dress, correct?”

“Does it have to be a dress?” she asked, her voice coming dangerously close to a whine.

“So you do have one?” he asked, cutting to the center of what was obviously about to be an argument. Not that he had expected any less from the girl who had only recently discovered the apparent wonders of wearing trousers and had since declared dresses the bane of “woman folk”.

She crossed her arms and raised her chin, “I won’t wear it.”

Numair’s dark glare, the one he only reserved for very special occasions, found Daine standing beside him that evening wearing a rosy pink dress with white lace trim. He almost felt bad once he saw the getup and heard the story behind the frilly frock. Though he didn’t want to tell Daine that the pink dress was the only one made available as a sort of revenge, he did make a mental note to speak to the rider’s seamstress the next time he was in Corus. Some pranks were just too cruel.

The only benefit to the monstrous dress was that it would nearly impossible to think of Daine as a serious threat while she wore it. With any luck, it meant that any suspicion would fall on him alone.

They were led by a particularly stuffy butler to a great hall but long before they reached the door they could hear the gruff voice of an outraged man.

“...Dey ‘ave ta be werewolves or da like ‘cause no wolves I’ve known act like this! Look at it! Laughin’ at me is what dere doin’!”

The butler cleared his throat as he stopped in the doorway but due to his shorter stature, there was no way he could hope to block Numair’s view. A brawny man in hunter’s gear with a crossbow slung across his back and two large hounds at his feet was holding up a pair of expertly sabotaged wolf traps. They had been triggered by broken sticks and marked with what distinctly smelled like wolf urine.

The hunter was offering the disgraced traps to an elegant-looking lord and lady who sat beside the ornate fireplace with looks of absolute horror. 

The lady, with her flawless porcelain skin, cut an elegant figure in her flowing crimson gown. Her husband was roguishly handsome with his trim brown beard and barreled chest. Yet, while they were both around Numair’s age, they did not maintain his youthful spirit. Something had aged them beyond their years, drowning the lord in his wine and his lady wife in the pompous air of carelessness.

The lady was so wrapped in propriety that as soon as she noticed her guests waiting at the threshold, she pinned the hunter with a glare that should have cut the man to ribbons. “Tait! I will hear no more of these wolves! You can either do your job as the chief hunter or my lord husband and I will find someone who will. Now, take these things away from here! This is a civilized place!”

Grumbling, Tait turned to leave only to have his hounds run ahead of him. They slipped right past Numair and the butler to find Daine, dancing around her with wagging tails and prancing paws.

Numair and the butler moved aside as Tait attempted to regain control of his charges but when the hunter found one of his dogs had rolled onto his back so Daine could scratch his belly, Numair had to work to stifle a smile. Shock didn’t even begin to cover the hunter’s reaction.

“Eh! Dose aren’t lady’s dogs! Their fierce hunters!”

Unfortunately for Tait’s pride, Daine couldn’t manage Numair’s level of control. A soft snicker escaped though she tried to cover it by saying that the dogs were wonderful creatures, even if they did hunt wolves.

This only seemed to sour the hunter’s mood further as he snapped his mouth shut and began stalking down the corridor like a thunderstorm. About halfway to the exit, he whistled sharply over his shoulder and the two dogs bounded off toward their master.

With the distraction gone, the butler attempted to recover the situation. He bowed deeply, “My lord and lady your guests have arrived. May I present Master Numair Salmalin of Corus and his student.”

Like the gentleman he was, Numair moved past the butler to give the lord and lady a respectful bow. Daine quickly followed his lead, stepping up beside him to offer their hosts a wobbly curtsey.

“We are honored to have you dine with us Master Salmalin,” said the lady with a forced cheerfulness and a regal bow of her head. Meanwhile, her husband simply nodded in automatic agreement. If it wasn’t obvious before who was really running the fief, that interaction alone was evidence enough.

The lady stood and moved to offer her hand to Numair, “I am Lady Yolaine, heiress of Dunlath.”

Dutifully, albeit with a bit of a courtly smirk, Numair bowed over her hand and brushed her knuckles with a chaste kiss, “It is my pleasure, Lady Yolaine.”

Yolaine smiled sweetly, obviously well versed in the courtly arts, and pulled her hand away in order to wave toward her husband. Taking the cue, the man sauntered forward to offer Numair his hand for a weak shake, “As my lady said, it is an honor to have you in our home Master. I am Lord Belden. Please, make yourself comfortable.”

“Thank you for such-” Numair began but was interrupted by the overtly loud opening of a side-door to the hall. A man strode in as if he were the master of any room he entered and Numair froze at the sight.

The man’s soft golden locks and chiseled features belied the character of a man who was morally ambiguous at best, downright evil at worst, and that had been as a teenager. There was no telling what darkness lay behind those deceptively ethereal features now.

“I apologize for being late, I-” the man stopped in his tracks as his sparkling blue eyes fell upon Numair, “Mithros, Mynoss, and Shakith. Arram? Is that Arram Draper? By the gods, it can’t be!”

Recovering from his dip into the inky waters of discomfort, Numair pasted a warm grin onto his face, “Well, if it isn’t Tristan Staghorn. It’s been years, though I go by Numair Salmalin now.”

Tristan quickly crossed the distance between them to offer Numair his hand. The lanky mage shook it, trying to keep his reluctance out of his grip. Tristan seemed overly sunny, returning Numair's grip firmly, “How is it you’ve found yourself here of all places? Last I heard you were still wanted in Carthak!”

“Carthak?” asked Lady Yolaine in a perfect mimicry of shock, “Why would the king’s chief mage be wanted in Carthak?”

Numair wasn’t at all disturbed by the revelation of his ‘criminal’ past, evenly replying, “The Emperor is very proprietary. He holds the belief that if a mage studies at the university that said mage belongs to him. I disagreed, which is why I’m surprised to see you here, Tristan. You were the top battle mage in your class.”

Tristan waved away the subtext of Numair’s compliment, “I eventually brought Ozorne around. I’ve been my own man for over a year.” And just as easily as Numair had switched subjects, Tristan did as well, his gaze finding Daine who had managed to blend into the background as easily as one of her animal friends. Numair almost wished it had stayed that way. “I’m sorry, young one. I didn’t mean to be rude- who might you be?”

“Allow me to introduce my student, Miss Veralidaine Sarrasri.”

Neither Numair nor Daine missed the half-apologetic, half-disgusted, look Lady Yolaine gave Daine at the mention of her last name. In the northern regions, surnames among the common classes were a denotation of someone’s sire. As someone whose father was unknown, Daine held her mother’s name instead- Sarrasri literally meaning “Sarra’s daughter”.

Tristan either didn’t know of the custom or didn’t care because he eyed Daine with great interest as he moved to brush his lips against her knuckles. “How wonderful to meet you, my dear. You must be something quite special to garner the patronage of my old friend the bookworm. Perhaps, if you have time, you can show me what you’ve learned.”

If Numair were anyone else, he’d have punched the man. As it was, he barely kept his gift from leaping to his fingers. He wasn’t as successful at controlling his tone, letting it go cold, “I’m afraid we’re just passing through on our way to the City of the Gods. I have some business with one of the masters there.”

“Pity,” Tristan replied. The man was frowning but a twinkle in his eye promised that the subject had not met its end. 

In the same moment Tristan straightened away from Daine, a butler entered to announce that dinner was ready to be served. In a gentlemanly fashion, Tristan offered Daine his arm so that he might escort her to the dining hall. Numair had to clench his teeth in order to keep from viciously berating the mage. It was only Daine’s barely polite smile that set her teacher at ease. She had obviously seen right through the charming mage.

So instead of fretting over his magelet, Numair turned and bowed deeply to Yolaine and offered her his escort. The lady accepted graciously and with a smile.

“Would you mind if I asked you something?” said the lady as they walked from the hall, her voice pitched in scandal.

“Who would I be to decline such a jewel whatever she wished?” Numair replied almost automatically. Despite his inner turmoil, he retained the light air of a courtly gentleman.

“I heard that you were at Pirate’s Swoop during the siege last year. Is it true that it was an Imperial Fleet that attacked?”

Knowing the underlying purpose of the question immediately, Numair answered as diplomatically as possible, “The Emperor asserted that the barges used in the attack were sold to pirates by traitors and as the attackers had flown no flag we must assume that he is telling the truth.”

“I see,” replied Yolaine with a frown.

As they entered the dining hall, Numair found another face from his past waiting for them. The striking woman with dark skin and amber beads in her braided hair had once followed Tristan around the university as if she were attached to him by a tether so her presence in Dunlath was far from surprising.

“Surely you remember our old friend, Gissa of Rachne?” said Tristan as he offered Daine a seat near the far side of the table.

Numair held out a chair for Lady Yolaine and then bowed over Gissa’s hand, “But of course. To see so many old friends in such a remote place is an unexpected pleasure.”

Gissa offered him one of the soft gentle smiles he remembered from his youth, “It’s wonderful to see you again, Arram.”

“It’s Numair now,” Tristan corrected with an air of mockery that also brought back adversely unpleasant memories from university days. 

As if he were the Lord, Tristan waved Numair to a seat between Yolaine and Gissa then took his own seat on the far side of Beldan, purposely placing three people between Numair and Daine.

Wine was offered but it was sometime before the first course was brought, leaving ample time for that mundane art known as small talk.

“Arr- Numair, I was surprised to see you here,” said Gissa, her heavily accented voice tripping over his name.

“I felt the same seeing you and Tristan. It has been a very long time,” Numair replied idly.

“I know we were all saddened to learn what happened between you and the Emperor. Varice most of all,” said Gissa. At the mention of Varice, the dark woman cut her eyes in his direction, searching for a reaction. Numair only offered her a wistful smile.

“Varice made her choices. I don’t begrudge them to her.”

This caught Yolaine’s interest, “And who might this lady Varice be?”

Gissa answered in Numair’s stead, her eyes downcast in sincere guilt, “She is a friend of ours from the university.” Her next words were meant for Numair alone, “I think she misses you.”

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss her as well.” He offered Gissa a smile, forgiving her with a look. “I have to say, I thought you and Tristan had gone your separate ways after you obtained your masteries.”

Gissa sighed, her tone turning dark, “You know I never could deny him my friendship. When he left the Emperor’s service, I left as well.”

“I suppose some things never change.”

“No, they don’t.” Gissa’s reply was tinged with meaning, a secret warning that only Numair would understand as she glanced at his cup.

Tipping the wine to his lips without drinking, Numair recognized the aroma immediately. There was enough Nightbloom mixed into the cup to put Numair to sleep for a century. He was almost glad that it was only a sleeping draught. Gissa had once slipped much worse concoctions into his wine. A memory that wasn’t lost to either of them.

Automatically, Numair glanced to Daine and found that Tristan was offering her a cup of what was likely also mixed wine. With a locking of eyes and a subtle shake of his head, he warned her away from the beverage which she politely declined. 

A deep sigh, had him pulling his attention back to Gissa who was staring into her own cup with a deep frown. With a glance down to Daine and an annoyed sideways look at Numair, Gissa told the lanky mage he had just made a mistake in warning his apprentice.

With a final look, Gissa told Numair to get Daine as far from Dunlath as possible because, if he was to engage in this great chess game with Tristan, Daine was a soft spot he couldn’t afford. It was a look that told Numair exactly where Gissa’s allegiances were. Despite her warning, she would not hesitate to tell Tristan about Numair’s weakness.

He nodded his understanding and purposely turned away to focus on the meal.

Every course of the dinner brought to them was cold, and delivered by unapologetic staff. The diners pretended not to notice, continuing to engage in idle talk about the happenings of the realm passed mouthfuls of frigid soup and hardened bread.

“So,” said Tristan, his voice raised to be heard by the far side of the table, “What is your specialty Daine? Esoterica? Surely that is the only thing you could hope to learn from a bibliophile like Master Numair. He couldn’t be instructing you on anything so mundane as battle magics or mechanics.”

Daine frowned but she didn’t catch her teacher’s warning look before she spoke, “He is teaching me to control my Wild Magic.”

Tristan laughed loudly, “Oh! That is a good one! Numair, you should have warned me that your student had such a sharp wit! Wild Magic! Ha ha!”

Numair smiled darkly, “I assure you, she does not jest.”

“You can’t be serious!” Tristan replied with a deep frown, “I always knew you were a strange one, my friend, but I never thought you believed in fairy tales.”

Numair’s tone turned haughty, “Most fairy tales have a basis in fact. Or so we have learned since the appearance of the immortals last year. What evidence is there that Wild Magic does not exist?”

“You make an excellent point. Tell me, what can you do with this Wild Magic?” Tristan asked Daine, setting his chin on his hand in a mimicry of interest.

Daine glanced at Numair and he silently warned her to keep her answer simple. The less Tristan knew, the better.

“I can speak to animals,” she said finally.

“Oh! Can you make them do your bidding? Such as making wolves carry messages or birds attack your enemies?”

Daine’s eyes widened and Numair wanted to curse. Tristan was always far cleverer than Numair gave him credit for. Luckily Numair’s apprentice was highly offended by the idea that she would force an animal to do anything.

“No, I just talk to them. What they do is their choice.”

“I see,” Tristan replied, his voice dripping with unspoken meaning.

Numair frowned and stood just as the bard who had come to entertain them finished his song. All eyes turned on him but he was passed watching Tristan treat Daine like a pawn, “I’m afraid I’m still quite tired from the journey and we still have another day to ride before we reach the City of the Gods.” Bowing low and apologetically to the lord and lady, Numair said, “If you will, my student and I will take our leave.”

“But of course,” replied Yolaine and offered Numair her hand which he bent over formally, “Please visit us again on your journey back to Corus.”

“Thank you for the offer, gracious lady,” he replied with a courtly smile before motioning to his student, “Come, Daine.”

Daine stood but as she did Tristan captured her hand and pressed it to his lips, “Please come back soon, sweet young lady. I would love to hear more about what my old friend has been teaching you.”

“I’ve said all there is to say, sir,” Daine replied and moved purposely to Numair’s side.

Tristan bowed his head respectfully and pointed a devious smile at Numair. Skin crawling, Numair steered Daine from the hall.

On the ride back to the inn, Numair looked sideways at Diane. She looked very tired.

“Are you alright? I know that was probably more than you expected. It was definitely more than I was prepared for and I was assuming we’d be arrested.”

She glanced at him, rubbing the back of her hand not for the first time. “That Tristan was slimy. I don’t know why he was paying me so much attention.”

Numair sighed heavily, “He was doing it to get to me, that bastard.”

“He said you used to be friends.”

“More like acquaintances. He was good friends with Ozorne, actually.”

“Then why would he leave Carthak?”

“Among many other devious pastimes, Tristan was always a very accomplished liar. He hasn’t actually left Carthak. By Mithros, I knew this was a bad idea. When I speak to Jonathan again, I’m going to-” Numair cut himself off with a sigh, “What’s done is done. Were you able to learn anything?”

Daine shook her head, “I spoke with the castle cats but they hadn’t seen Evin. You don’t think-” she couldn’t finish the sentence but it was easy to determine what it would have been.

“I don’t know,” Numair replied sadly. For her sake, he really hoped the young man wasn’t dead. It was obvious from Tristan’s questions that Evin had been in custody at some point and had let slip that a wolf had carried a message to the capital.

That thought haunted Numair as they pulled up to the inn and, after handing off their mounts to the hostler, started for their rooms. Before unlocking his door, Numair passed Diane a reassuring smile.

“Good night, magelet.”

She yawned, “Night, ‘Mair.”

He watched her close the door behind her before disappearing into his own quarters. Despite what he’d told those at the castle, he doubted he’d be getting any sleep while they remained in Dunlath village.


	8. Run

Numair had just been about to settle into a chair beside the fireplace with his book when the door between his and Daine’s rooms flew open. He turned, prepared to administer a reprimand to a curious dragon only to find Daine standing there in her rather thin night dress. Yet it wasn’t her state of undress that had Numair gaping. It was the whiskers that grew from Daine’s cheeks.

“He’s alive!” she exclaimed.

“What?” Numair whispered, unable to form any other question.

Daine’s words came out in a rush, her whiskers twitching, “I thought it was a long shot but I couldn’t help but hope that maybe- I never expected him to be there. I’d think I- ”

Numair held up a hand, “Daine, stop. You aren’t making any sense and...well-”

“Well, what?”

He reached over and carefully picked up the shaving mirror that sat on the dressing table. He held it out to her, unable to look away from the tufted cat ears that he’d just noticed poking out of her smokey curls.

She frowned and took the mirror, “What are you-”

Her cat’s eyes went wide as she noticed her reflection. She stared at it in open terror for a moment before turning those yellow eyes on him.

“Numair?” his name stood for the thousand questions that cracked her voice.

“I don’t know but it has to be your magic. What were you doing up to this point?”

Memory struck Daine like a lightning bolt, making her cat ears flutter, “Blueness!”

Numair frowned, “Blueness?”

“He’s the castle tomcat. He decided to go to the dungeon and look for Evin though I didn’t ask him to. He called to me and I answered but I didn’t believe him, so I entered his mind and- I saw Evin in the castle dungeons! He was escaping!”

Numair let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as, during the course of her explanation, her cat ears and whiskers disappeared so that only the eyes remained.

Just then, a yell from outside drew Numair and Daine to the window. Below, soldiers were lined up as a captain gave orders for the capture of the mage and his student.

Numair cursed, “We have to leave. Now.”

Daine nodded and left to dress and get her things. She returned a moment later with an inquisitive Kitten poking out of the pack on her back. Much to his relief, Daine’s eyes had also returned to normal.

“Tell Cloud, Mangle, and Spots to make a run for it and meet us in the forest. We’ll have to travel on foot until we escape,” he told Daine.

Again Daine nodded and a moment later the sound of startled humans and clacking hooves emerged from the courtyard. Numair took that as a signal, bringing forth a spell to make both he and Diane invisible. Kitten trilled in annoyance, she hated invisibility spells.

“You’d best keep quiet, little one. We won’t have to use the spell long, just until we get to relative safety,” Kitten gripped her muzzle in promise. Numair nodded in gratitude and led the way out of the room. 

Slowly they made their way toward the servant's entrance at the back of the inn. Two soldiers stood guard outside the entrance but a few helpful deer were able to make enough noise to draw the guards away.

Once they entered the woods Daine took the lead, careful to avoid crossing any hunting trails. Even then, Numair didn’t drop the invisibility spell until they were deep in the brush.

“Keep your senses open for Stormwings,” he warned her.

“They’ve flown over twice,” Daine replied, “As long as we stay to the shadows they shouldn’t be able to see us.”

Familiar magic slid across Numair’s skin and he clenched his teeth at the uncomfortable sensation. Numair stopped and summoned his gift. Soon two versions of him split away to run in different directions, one heading north and one heading south.

“What was that?” asked Daine as she watched his copies run away.

Numair was panting from the effort but managed to answer between ragged breaths, “Simulacrum. They were messy but imbued with enough of my gift to fool the occult net. We need to get out of here fast, before the illusions end and Tristan can pinpoint my location.”

As if summoned by his words, Spots and Cloud trotted out of the brush to nose their respective masters. Mangle emerged a moment later, looking very tired. Before mounting Cloud, Daine looked toward the sky where a bird darted overhead.

“We should head west,” Numair said as he settled in the saddle, “That’s the quickest way out of the valley.”

Daine shook her head, “We should split up. I can find Evin while you get to the Fifth.”

“And leave you by yourself? Absolutely not!”

She pinned him with a knowing look, “You think I don’t listen? Numair, we both know they won’t be able to track me once your gone. Alone, I can find Evin and be out of the valley before the soldiers even know where to look.”

“I will not-”

“Sorry Numair but we don’t have time to argue,” said Daine and Numair barely had time to grab the saddle horn as Spots turned west and dashed away. 

“What in the name of Mithros are you doing!” Numair yelled at the horse as he grabbed the reins and pulled Spots to a stop. He turned Spots back toward Daine but she had already disappeared. When he tapped the horse with his heels Spots shook his great head and turned back toward the west. 

“So that’s how it is? You’re on her side of this?” Spots huffed through his nose and Numair scowled. Without Spots, he would never find Diane. “I swear by the gods that if anything happens to her, I’ll sell you for glue.” Spot’s seemed to agree to his master’s addendum as he took off once more.

It was almost morning when he reached the place where the Fifth was camped. Numair was almost relieved when he rode up to find Sarge speaking to a small group of riders. 

Dismounting, he crossed to the large ebony-skinned man in two strides. The clasping of hands turned into a friendly hug as the two men greeted each other.

“What are you doing here?” Numair asked the large man whose powerful body had been honed by years in the gladiatorial arenas of Carthak. 

“Buri asked me to take over as commander of the Fifth until they find a replacement,” Sarge replied, his vibrating baritone forever making him sound as if he were laughing at some secret joke. The tone even persisted as he scanned the brush Numair had emerged from with a deep frown, “Where is Daine?”

Numair’s scowl spoke volumes, especially when he turned it on a contrite-looking Spots, “She conspired with my horse to send me ahead while she collected Evin.”

Sarge laughed as he waved a rider over and motioned toward Spots. The rider dutifully took the horse toward where the rider’s ponies were tethered and began unsaddling him.

“It’s not funny!”

Sarge clapped Numair on the shoulder, almost bringing the thin mage to his knees. “Come now, my friend, if she made you leave, it must have been for a good reason.”

Numair, under the watchful gaze of a man who had known him since boyhood, could not deny the truth of the words. Daine was nothing if not practical. Not that he could bring himself to put words to such logical thoughts, not while he was still under the influence of bone-deep worry.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened?” Sarge suggested, already leading the way toward a large fire near the center of the camp. He waved Numair toward a log that had been moved to work as an improvised chair.

Numair sat reluctantly and relayed the tale of his time in Dunlath. Sarge stood across from him, arms crossed as he stared thoughtfully into the fire. When Numair had finished, Sarge was frowning heavily again.

“I see why you’re worried.”

Numair nodded sadly, “If she isn’t here by dawn I’m going back.”

“I don’t think I could stop you even if I wanted to,” Sarge replied with a knowing look. “The last message I got said the king had mobilized the army two days ago but it will still be another day before they arrive and we can’t hope to take the castle ourselves. All we can do is secure the passes and try to keep the traitors from disappearing into the night.”

“Which is harder than it sounds when you take into account that they could easily fly out via Stormwing or Hurrok like Sinthya did.”

“They try that and I’ll show them a few javelins.” Sarge moved away from the fire and toward a nearby tent. In his commanding voice, he called out to the sleeping trainees that he needed two teams to ride to the north and south sections of the valley. There was no hesitation as four riders emerged as volunteers. “No one except Daine and Evin are to leave the valley without direct word from either myself or Master Numair. ”

With a uniform nod, the volunteers organized themselves into teams and readied their mounts.

“Rider Inbound!” called the camp guard.

Inhaling in relief, Numair stood from his spot beside the fire and jogged to the edge of the camp but instead of Daine, a tall thin young man sat astride Cloud. 

Evin Larse did not look as Numair remembered; his blonde hair matted with dirt, sweat, and blood while his pale skin had been turned grey-green by whatever misfortune had befallen him. Blinking rapidly, Evin tried to keep the glassiness from consuming his sky-blue eyes.

Cloud went right to Numair, her brown eyes wide. She nosed him, urging him to react in some way but his thoughts were frozen with the knowledge that Daine was nowhere in sight. It took the pony fully stepping on his foot to pull the mage from himself.

“Where’s Daine?” he whispered.

Evin didn’t get the chance to answer as he fell unconscious. Numair caught the young man with his gift and set him gently on the ground. Kneeling at Evin’s side, Numair examined him. That’s when he saw the fresh injection sights on Evin’s arms.

Bringing forth his gift, Numair cursed himself for not recognizing the poison the moment he saw the young man. With his magical sight, he could see the dark green cloud that hung over Evin. Applying his gift, he burned the poison away.

It was too late that he realized there had been an elaborate trap set for him.

“Tristan, you son of a-” he never finished the curse as darkness overtook him.


	9. Storm Before the Calm

Numair awoke to sunlight filtering through a crack in the flap of a canvas tent. The first thing he felt was emptiness as if he were missing some vital organ. Then memory came back to him and he bolted upright. “Daine.”

“She’s not here.”

Searching for the source of the groaning voice, he found a cot had been set opposite his own in the tent. On it, Evin was laying with his hands over his face. He looked healthy but exasperated. The young man peeked from between his fingers, wincing as the sunlight burned his retinas.

“Damnit, she said she would be right behind me and I wasn’t exactly in a position to argue. Gods be good, I didn’t know up from down after the woman stuck me with that needle. Why would Daine make me leave her behind?”

“It was a trap,” Numair said simply, hiding his bone-deep fear behind academic thoughts, “Tristan knew we’d get passed the Dunlath soldiers. You were meant to find us instead. To lead him right to us and put me down so that I couldn’t fight him. What Tristan didn’t know was how absolutely obstinate Daine could be. I can only guess that her friends warned her that someone was following you and led them away so that you could escape.”

“Damnit, I’m going to kill her when I see her again,” Evin grumbled.

“That makes two of us,” replied Numair, swinging his feet over the side of the cot and ignoring the protests of his stiff limbs. Evin eyed him curiously and Numair grimaced, “She turned my horse against me, sending me to the camp in much the same fashion as you.”

Numair stood, wavering for a moment on legs that felt like water, “Where did you see her last?”

Evin propped himself up on his forearms, “Why? What are you doing?”

“I’m going to find Daine.”

The younger man put his feet to the ground with far more ease than Numair had managed, “You think that’s a good idea? If she isn’t here than she’s probably hiding somewhere. Won’t you just be putting yourself in danger?”

Numair waved away the concern with an arrogant fluttering of his hand, “This isn’t the first time I’ve been forced to play this game. I’ll find her.”

Evin nearly collapsed when he stood, giving the first hints that he wasn’t as recovered as he pretended to be. “Then I’m going with you.”

“I’m afraid not, you can barely stand,” said Numair, ignoring the way the young man’s commanding tone grated on his nerves.

“And you’re much better off?” Evin said passed gritted teeth, “I heard Sarge and the healer talking. You almost died.”

Numair rolled his eyes with all the nonchalance of someone who had just been informed of the weather instead of a near-death experience. “What else is new? It’s practically a joke at this point.”

“You’re not the only one who cares about her, you know!” Evin growled and Numair felt his barely-maintained air of calm snap like a twig.

Without weighing the consequences of his actions, he used his magic to make Evin’s bedroll rise from the cot and wrap around him, effectively tying him down. “Have you forgotten that you were the one that sent her that letter in the first place? Practically guaranteeing that she would come to your aid? I think you’ve caused enough trouble.”

Evin gaped for a second and then his features fell as realization dawned. Seeing the guilt sweep the young man’s face sent an answering pang through Numair. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to dwell on it. He had far more important concerns.

Turning on his heel, he exited the tent without another word. Every rider in the camp froze to stare at him. He ignored them all and found Spots among the other mounts. The rider’s ponies shied away from him but Spots didn’t dare protest as his master began to saddle him. Nobody could ever accuse the gelding of unintelligence.

As he worked, another pony emerged to nose him. He glanced over to find Cloud glaring at him.

“Then come along, damnit. It’s not like I can stop you,” he grumbled.

The pony nodded and waited patiently for Numair to saddle the gelding.

Sarge was the only human brave enough to approach Numair but it was the man’s gentle words that finally broke through Numair’s dark mood to effectively throw him back in time and into the body of a gifted boy with more heart than sense.

“Be safe, my friend. For her sake.”

Frozen mid-motion, Numair turned his head to find Sarge smiling at him in a way only his old friend could. The man was not trying to stop him, he was trying to warn him.

Numair let go of his single-minded anger in a long breath and regained control of the magic that floated around him like a storm cloud.

“Thanks,” he told Sarge.

He clapped Numair on the shoulder, “Don’t worry. I’m sure she’s alright.”

All he could do was nod in reply before climbing in the saddle and waving toward Cloud. The pony didn’t hesitate, starting on a quick and steady pace toward the valley. Spots fell in behind the mare without input.

Once he was out of sight of the camp, Numair sent his magic across the distance to release Evin. He hadn’t been fair to the young man, especially when Numair was just as much to blame for her current predicament. He should have known better than to underestimate Tristan. If it hadn’t been for Daine’s unfailing practicality they would all likely be dead now. Or on the way to Carthak. He shuddered at the latter scenario. The former was the far better option. Ozorne was not known for his mercy.

Cloud whinnied and Spots pranced sideways, jarring Numair from his dark thoughts. Blinking, he saw the shield blocking the path. It swirled in orange and green-yellow colors, magics he recognized as belonging to Tristan and Gissa.

Sliding off of Spots, Numair strode forward and held his hand out to the barrier. It was a cage, meant to keep people in as much as out. Daine was trapped. Tristan had imprisoned her.

Without thinking, he began throwing raw magic at the shield. His bone-deep fears only seemed to grow exponentially as the barrier absorbed his repeated blasts instead of breaking under the force of his will.

He didn’t know how long he continued to berate the shield before a large grey lizard-like creature suddenly appeared, walking on its hind legs and holding its tail like the long train of a gown.

Numair recognized the creature immediately and aimed his next attack at the Basilisk rather than the shield.

A word hissed through the air and Numair felt his limbs freeze in place as he became wrapped in stone. His gift reacted automatically, breaking through the stone as if it were nothing more than brittle clay.

Numair was preparing another attack when a familiar trill stopped him. He banished the magic from his fingers and focused on the sound. Kitten’s head emerged from a pocket on the basilisk's stomach, whistling angrily up at the creature.

The basilisk looked down at the dragonet as if he had just remembered she was there. “Ah, yes, my apologies Skysong. I was surprised,” said the creature in a hiss-laden version of common.

He plucked her from the pouch and set her on the ground.

Kitten’s eyes fell on Numair and she trilled happily, galloping across the distance to leap at him. The mage scooped her up automatically and she nuzzled into his neck with all the playful grace of her namesake.

With Kitten in his arms, Numair’s guilt doubled, “Gods, sweetling, I’m so sorry. I could have hurt you.”

“Yes, I wish Daine would have warned me of your ability,” said the basilisk, seemingly distracted by something far away, “A normal mage would not have been able to break my spell so easily.”

“Daine sent you?” Numair breathed, unable to believe his ears.

The basilisk nodded, “She wishes to know how long it will take you to break through the barrier as she would like to warn the People. Your attempts to do so are quite...loud.”

Numair sighed in relief. No one but Daine would ask such a question. “I cannot break the spell so you can tell her that I am finished disturbing her friends with my ridiculousness.” Numair fell into himself, he really had acted more foolish than strictly required. He had to wonder if his brain had seeped out his ears at some point in the last twenty-four hours.

Sensing his guilt, Kitten pulled back, clicking softly. Then, seemingly struck by a thought, Kitten chattered excitedly and dug the black opal out from under Numair’s shirt. Holding it between her paws, she clicked and whistled. The gemstone began to glow, revealing the magic contained within.

“Very good, Skysong,” said the basilisk and, at Numair’s puzzled look, explained that he had been teaching Skysong stone magics.

“Please don’t teach her how to turn people to stone,” groaned Numair and Kitten looked forlorn.

“Daine requested the same,” said the basilisk with a note of amusement to his hissing voice, “When I informed her that it was already too late for that, Daine strictly forbid young Skysong from performing the spell.”

Feeling a little bad for Kitten, Numair tickled her chin so that she was forced to look at his soft smile, “Well, unless the person is a threat. Then, by all means, feel free to turn them to stone.”

Kitten brightened at that, trilling enthusiastically. The basilisk seemed perplexed by Kitten’s reaction, looking from her to Numair and back. “I thought Skysong’s mother left her in Daine’s care?”

“She did,” Numair replied, equally confused by the Basilisk's question.

“Then why is it that Skysong calls you her father?”

Numair stared down at the dragonet in surprise. Kitten’s amber eyes were shining with affection, igniting a warm feeling in Numair’s chest. “I suppose it is because I often help Daine care for her, more than anyone else anyways.”

Kitten nudged him with her nose, clucking softly. The basilisk translated, “She says that you’re her father as no one but a father would care for her the way you do.”

“I’m honored, little one,” Numair said quietly, smiling warmly at the dragonet.

The basilisk seemed to approve, giving the scene a quick nod, “I should pass your message to Daine. I believe she is in the process of composing a letter for you. Will Skysong remain with you on this side of the barrier?”

Numair looked down at the dragonet, deflecting the question to her. A sharp whistle was her affirmative answer.

The basilisk looked at her with what Numair believed was supposed to be a smile, “I will return shortly.”

Numair bowed his head, “Thank you, sir basilisk.”

“You may call me Tkaa,” the creature replied before walking back through the shield.

Cloud stepped forward to nose Numair gently. The horse’s ears twitched despite the show of concern, telling Numair that the sound of his magic hitting the barrier had caused both her and Spots a great deal of discomfort.

Shoulders weighted with his inwardly pointed annoyance, Numair said, “I’m sorry, Cloud. I might have lost my temper a bit.”

Cloud’s sarcastic snort was all the confirmation Numair needed that he had indeed caused a ruckus.

Numair sighed, “Yes, yes. You can have Daine thoroughly berate me later.” Thinking about that, Numair eyed the pony, “Can you hear her past the shield?” Cloud nodded and the fearful part of Numair that had been kept behind a locked door of logical thought was released into the air with a long exhale. He seemed to collapse, sitting heavily on a nearby boulder. “Thank the gods.”

Kitten trilled a question and Numair looked down at her, “Sorry, sweetling. It isn’t that I didn’t believe your new friend Tkaa, it’s just that I was very worried about you two.”

Nodding in understanding, Kitten whistled and struggled until he put her back on the ground. She scurried into the brush and returned with her arms filled with rocks. Laying them on the ground, she whistled a short tune and the rocks began to move, stacking themselves into a wobbly tower. When it was done, she looked up at Numair expectantly.

Numair couldn’t help but chuckle at the little dragon, “I know that one too.”

He whistled a varied version of the short tune and a few rocks rolled into the clearing to create a small circle around Kitten’s tower. The dragonet chirped happily and copied his tune, making the rocks roll back and forth across the ground.

Numair shook his head at her show. “I know you’re trying to make me feel better and, while I appreciate it, it isn’t necessary. I’m just so glad that you and Daine are alright that I don’t think my mind can process it.”

Kitten chirped softly and nuzzled his shin. He stroked her narrow head. “I love you too, little one.”

The arrival of Tkaa brought Numair even more relief in the form of a letter written in Daine’s neat, albeit grammatically atrocious, handwriting.

Just as Numair finished reading the words, he noticed a marmot come to sit beside him. He was used to the strange behavior of animals around Daine but this one seemed particularly strange. Then he noticed the animal’s grey-blue eyes.

“Daine? Is that you?” he asked.

The marmot nodded and Numair found himself flooded with a thousand emotions at once.

Anger seemed to win out in the end. “You’ll be lucky if I don’t chain you to your desk for a year after what you did!”

Daine-the-marmot pointed at the letter and he scowled, “No amount of heartfelt apologies will change the fact that you turned Spots against me! You know how worried I was? What if you had been hurt? What if you had been killed?”

Daine-the-marmot bowed its head, apparently contrite, and Numair found his anger dissipating. “Are you at least somewhere safe?”

Another nod and Numair let the last of his frustration go, “Good.”

Indicating the letter again, the marmot pointed at the first line. Numair had to work to keep the annoyance from seeping into his expression.

“Yes, Evin is fine. Cloud brought him to us and I was able to break the poison’s hold on him.”

The marmot seemed relieved before waving to the second paragraph.

“I don’t know when I’ll be able to break down the barrier. I’m sorry Daine but you will have to continue to lay low until I get help.” Thinking about the barrier, Numair’s mouth started to run away with him as he cataloged everything he’d been able to determine about the shield during his ill-thought attempt to break it, “It must be bound to a model, there is no other way Tristan could have cast it over such a large distance. I wouldn’t be surprised if he were using black opals to hold the spell, seeing as he apparently has a large supply of them. That’s the only reason why it would be absorbing my attacks rather than reflecting them.”

“Wouldn’t destroying the stones anchoring the spell break the barrier?” asked Tkaa, reminding Numair the basilisk was still there.

“Yes,” Numair replied automatically but when the marmot perked up he pinned it with a glare, “Don’t even think about it! I swear by the gods if you put yourself in danger like that, I’ll kill you myself!”

Daine-the-marmot actually rolled her eyes at him.

“No, Daine. I want your word that you won’t try to find the model.”

Bowing its head the marmot raised its paw in promise.

“Good, now, about the fate of Dunlath. We’re basically stuck here until the army arrives. Alanna will be with them and it’s possible that with her help I can break the spell.” Numair averted his eyes so Daine couldn’t see the concern in his gaze, “I really don’t like the idea of leaving you trapped in there that long.”

The marmot placed a paw on his knee. He tried to smile down at it. “Just, please be safe, magelet.”

Daine-the-marmot nodded solemnly and Numair took a deep breath. “I’m going to return to the rider’s camp soon but I’ll return here tomorrow evening. If you need anything, just let me know and I’ll try to find a way to get it to you.”

“I do not mind being a messenger when the occasion calls for it.”

“Thank you, Tkaa,” Numair said with a respectful bow of his head.

Looking back down at Daine-the-marmot Numair tried and failed to smile once more, “You’d better go. If you keep moving, you’ll be less likely to be found by the Dunlath scouts or any more immortals.”

The marmot nodded but touched his hand with its paw before scurrying away. He watched the animal disappear with sad eyes.

“You really care for her, don’t you Master Mage?” asked Tkaa.

“Very much,” Numair replied without thought.

“Then I look forward to knowing you better.” With that statement, the Basilisk looked to Kitten, “Are you to remain here, Skysong?”

Kitten looked down, trilling softly with indecision. Numair lifted her scaly chin so that she was looking at him.

“Do you know the whistle for invisibility?”

Her eyes lit up and she shook her head.

Numair smiled, “Then listen carefully.”

He whistled a soft tune and turned invisible. With the same tune, he dispelled the illusion. Kitten repeated the tune perfectly and when the spell worked she trilled happily before breaking it.

“Very good, little one. Now, I want you to use it to keep your mother safe. You know how stubborn she can be.”

Kitten whistled sharply in agreement and nuzzled him a final time before joining Tkaa.

As they disappeared, Numair felt as if something had been ripped from his chest. He wished for nothing more than to hug his magelet to him, knowing he would never be assured of her safety until he could look upon her with his own eyes.

He was still sitting there, forlorn when Tkaa reappeared rather perturbed and with another piece of parchment.

“When I offered my services, I did not mean immediately,” Tkaa grumbled as he handed another message over.

“I’m sure it was important if Daine asked you to deliver it,” Numair replied as he took the parchment and began unfolding it.

“I would hope so.”

Despite his annoyance, Tkaa waited while Numair read Daine’s message.

It was written in gigantic letters and read: _GET SOME SLEEP, DOLT. YOU’VE GOT SPOTS WORRIED._

Numair smiled down at the note as he reached into his packs to retrieve his own quill and ink. Across the back of her note, he scribbled a reply.

_Now that I know you’re safe, I will. I promise, magelet._

He folded it and handed it back to Tkaa who disappeared once more.

Standing, Numair mounted Spots and rode back toward the rider’s camp with Cloud right behind him.

The rider on watch called out to Sarge the moment he spotted the mage, giving the commander more than enough time to hand his mount’s reins to one of his subordinates so that he could meet Numair at the edges of the camp. The mage dismounted a few feet from Sarge, leading Spots forward by his bridle.

“It’s good to see you in one piece, my friend. We heard something like an explosion near the edge of the valley and worried you were in trouble. I was about to ride out myself to find you.”

“While I appreciate your concern,” Numair looked at his feet, “the disturbance was me. There is a barrier around the valley. Nothing can get in or out. Well, except for immortals, apparently.”

Sarge’s natural grin turned fully upside down, “Can you break it?”

Numair shook his head.

Sarge nodded and led the mage back to the camp. Cloud quickly rejoined the other ponies, remaining untied as usual but Numair barely noticed as his gaze fell on Evin. The tall young man was sitting alone beside a small fire, his knees drawn up and held loosely by his long arms.

Sarge waved over two riders who had been busy mending tack, “One of you, ride out to those stationed around the valley and warn them the shield will not stop the immortals. The other will ride a circuit around the valley and determine how far the shield extends. Make sure you take note of any possible weak points or terrain we might be able to use to our advantage.”

With a nod, the riders rushed off to do as they were told.

Turning back to Numair, Sarge took charge of Spots before waving toward a small tent that had not been there before, “Get some rest, my friend. I’ll wake you if anything happens.”

“In a moment,” replied Numair, moving to sit opposite Evin. An awkward silence stretched between them as Numair tried to reconcile his feelings toward the young man. Evin wasn’t the bad sort but something about him made the apology Numair tried to formulate stick in his throat.

“Daine’s alright,” he offered instead as a sort of treaty, “Being trapped in that valley by a magical barrier notwithstanding. She’s staying on the move so that they can’t find her until I can break it down.”

Evin let out a long breath, “So, until then, she’s still in danger?”

“Unfortunately,” replied Numair, “Tristan was always a conniving bastard but I’m sure Daine can keep herself safe until we can get to her.”

Eyeing Numair, Evin tried to smirk but the expression was lost among the guilt Numair had placed on his shoulders. “Thanks for trying but you don’t have to apologize. You were right. I got Daine into this mess.”

“No, Daine got Daine into this mess. If you know her at all, you know she makes her own decisions. Even if you had not sent that letter, she likely would have still come here. Those wolves are basically the last of her family.”

Evin rolled his eyes, “You know that isn’t true. She’s got Cloud, and Kitten, and you. What’s she need an idiot like me for?” The last words were spoken so quietly Numair wasn’t sure he had heard them.

“To be her friend,” Numair replied simply, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but she chooses her friends with great care because there isn’t anything she wouldn’t do for someone she cares about. Including tell them precisely when they are being completely ridiculous.”

The young man’s head shot up at the last part, his wide eyes trained on Numair who quickly averted his gaze with a smirk, “If she had heard the way I spoke to you, I would have been sleeping with skunks for the next month.”

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” said Evin and Numair raised his head to find Evin grinning.

Numair smiled back, “Agreed.”

With a resigned sigh, Numair stood and stretched comically, “I should get some rest. I’m supposed to meet Daine’s messenger-basilisk this evening.”

Evin raised an eyebrow, “She made friends with a basilisk? Next, you’ll tell me she’s negotiated a treaty with the stormwings.”

Numair shrugged, “I wouldn’t put it past her. She’s had stranger friends. Me, for one.”

“You’re not so strange,” Evin replied with a shrug, “I happen to think you’re a very good friend but I may have to rethink that if you tie me up again rather than let me go with you.”

“If you’re up to it than I have no objections.”

“Alright, then I’ll see you later.”

Numair stifled a yawn and waved goodbye to the young man.

No, Evin wasn’t a bad sort. Daine was lucky to have him as a friend.


	10. Knowledge and Power

The sun was descending when Numair awoke. He stretched stiff limbs and wished beyond hope for a soft feather bed.

Pulling the tent flap back, he emerged only to find Miri and Evin already saddling Spots, a speckled mare, and a tall black gelding. When the tall girl saw him, her heart-shaped face broke into a wide grin.

“Master Numair!”

“Hello, Miri, I didn’t know you were with the Fifth.”

Miri beamed, “Sarge asked for me so I was transferred from the Third. He says that I’m the only one he can trust to keep a clear head.”

“Quite the compliment,” Numair replied.

“Yes it is,” said Sarge as he walked up to stand beside the girl. Next to Sarge’s mass, the girl looked like a stick doll. “But true.”’

Miri blushed and Numair saw why Diane had warmed up to the girl so quickly. Miri had an undeniable sweetness around her that reminded him of a tamed songbird.

“It is good to see you, Miri, but I’m afraid we have to be going,” said Numair, offering the girl a kind smile before nodding to Evin who immediately mounted the black gelding.

“Where are you going?” asked Sarge.

“I told Daine I would meet the Basilisk again this evening in case she needed anything.”

Sarge frowned, “Forgive me, my friend but I don’t think that is a good idea. Already the Stormwings have begun patrolling the area around the shield and alone you are a target.”

“Evin and I are going with him,” Miri piped up but Sarge’s deep frown had her confidence crumbling. She began toeing a fallen twig as she spoke quietly, “Daine is my friends too. I’m worried about her.”

Understanding the note of concern in the girl’s voice, Numair made an impulsive decision, “We could use the help. Miri can get messages back to the camp far more efficiently than either Evin or I could. After all, I’m apparently the worst rider to ever grace the earth and Evin knows the valley better than any of us so I'll need him on hand if Daine and I are going to talk strategy.”

Sarge silently contemplated the pros and cons for a long time before finally admitting defeat with a long sigh, “Fine.” Then he eyed Miri, Evin, and Numair with narrowed eyes, “You had all better be careful.”

Much to Numair’s surprise, Miri hugged Sarge around the neck and instead of being surprised Sarge just grinned and returned the girl’s friendly gesture. Watching the sudden show of affection made Numair’s heart clench. Averting his gaze, Numair waved toward the valley.

“Come on, we don’t have time to dawdle.”

Miri broke away from Sarge and mounted her pony.

Soon they were riding away toward the spot near the shield where he had met Tkaa. The Basilisk was already waiting for them, snacking on rocks he had piled neatly in front of him. Kitten sat beside him, obviously not pleased by Tkaa’s taste in food.

When she saw the group, she trilled excitedly and trotted over to meet Numair. He dismounted and bent to pet the young dragon.

“Hello, sweetling. Learned anything else interesting?”

Kitten nodded and whistled a small tune. A few of Tkaa’s rocks began to change colors.

The basilisk was not amused, picking the colored rocks from his pile and tossing them away. “Come now, Skysong. No need to spoil perfectly good food.”

Numair laughed, “My apologies Master Tkaa. I did ask her.”

“There’s no need, Master Mage. I have plenty,” Tkaa turned his slit-pupiled eyes on Miri and Evin, “Who are your companions?”

Miri’s eyes had gone wide but to her credit, she was otherwise calm as she greeted the immortal, “I’m Miri. I’m a friend of Daine.”

Tkaa bowed his head respectfully, “Then it is good to meet you.”

Evin bowed his head respectfully to Tkaa, calm and cool as if he had met a hundred basilisks, “And I’m Evin. Also a friend of Daine’s.”

Tkaa nodded, “Daine has spoken of you.”

From a pouch in his stomach, Tkaa produced two pieces of parchment and held one out to Numair who took it sat on the boulder that had been designated as his new favorite chair. The other Tkaa waved at Evin.

“Daine had wanted Master Numair to pass this on to you but that seems like a waste of energy if you are here.”

Evin dismounted and retrieved the letter, though he seemed reluctant to open it.

Ignoring the young man’s hesitation, Numair unfolded Daine’s letter.

It read:

_Numair, I hope you’re staying safe. I’ve seen the Stormwings passing through the barrier and was worried they might attack the rider’s camp. That is until I saw the group that went south return covered in onion powder. Leave it to the Riders to find out how much Stormwings hate onions. I have to admit, I laughed when I heard them grumble about how much they reeked. If only they knew how they smelt to my friends!_

_Speaking of immortals, what do you know about Coldfangs? One attacked the wolves but Tkaa turned it to stone. He said they chase thieves but I’ve never heard of them before._

_Alright, I’ll get to the point of this letter but before you read on, I want you to know that I was VERY careful and I’m glad that I did it. You’re in danger._

With a frown, Numair read on before cursing loudly, “By Mirthos, Minos, and Shaketh!”

Tkaa sighed, though it sounded more like an elongated hiss, “She warned me that you might react in such a way. Would my assertion that she is fine do anything to temper your anger?”

“I’m going to throttle her,” Numair replied, his sarcastic tone belying his threat.

“I thought not,” Tkaa replied simply, garnering an annoyed glance from Numair.

“What is it?” asked Miri.

“Daine decided to scout out the forts using her ability to enter the minds of animals and apparently found a letter from the Emperor of Carthak calling for my capture. Not that it is surprising. The Emperor has been trying to get his hands on me for years. What vexes me is that I specifically told Daine to stay out of trouble and yet she goes looking for it!”

Miri gaped, “But why would the Emperor want you captured?”

Numair dismissed the question with a, “It really doesn’t matter,” because he was far from prepared to reveal the intricacies of his past with the young woman.

“Do you have a reply that does not include promises of violence?” asked Tkaa.

Numair sighed, his earlier anger seeming like an overreaction in hindsight, “Please tell her that if she plans to continue her scouting to be careful. Even though she is not putting herself in physical danger, surely someone will notice a normally illiterate creature sifting through documents.”

“I will inform her,” said Tkaa before turning to Evin, “Do you have a reply as well?”

Evin’s head shot up, his face the perfect recreation of a child caught sneaking into the kitchen for sweets, “No. Thank you, sir.”

Tkaa bowed his head formally and stood to begin gathering his dinner into his pouch.

“Will you return to your camp?” he asked Numair.

The mage contemplated his answer for a moment before shaking his head, “No, it might be best if I remain here until the army arrives. Just encase Daine’s ill-thought scouting excursions turn up anything else important.”

Tkaa bowed formally, “Understood. I shall return tomorrow evening unless something comes up between now and then.”

“Thank you, Master Tkaa.”

Tkaa gave a final bow of his head before disappearing back through the barrier with Kitten in tow.

Once the basilisk was gone, Miri moved to stand beside Evin who had returned to reading his letter. His frown deepened every time his eyes flicked across the page.

“Are you alright?” she asked him.

Evin’s frown remained in place as he carefully folded his letter and stuck it in his pocket, “Fine.”

The young man stood and looked to Numair, his blue eyes stormy, “Daine’s letter detailed what she was able to determine about the troop movements through the valley but to understand it I’ll need a map. I’ll return shortly.”

Before either Numair or Miri could protest, Evin had mounted and was riding back toward the camp.

Miri sighed and looked out over the distance, narrowing her eyes as if trying to see something far away. Suddenly she shook her head, looking down at her feet.

“Master Numair, may I ask you a question?” she asked.

“You may ask. Whether or not I answer will depend on your question.”

“Why do you think Diane came here? Was it just because of Evin?”

Numair frowned, unsure whether or not he liked where this line of questions was leading, “No, there are also animal friends of hers who live in Dunlath. Why do you ask?”

“I don’t want to see Daine or Evin get hurt,” Miri replied, the words seeming to have escaped her throat in an ill-thought whisper.

“I don’t understand. Why would either of them be hurt?”

Shaking her head Miri went to her pony to begin retrieving her camping gear, “It’s nothing. I’m just being silly.”

Standing, Numair moved to block Miri’s path. He pinned the girl with a stern look, “Miri. You’d best explain. Now.”

“It’s just that, well, Evin and Daine are my best friends. I know them pretty well. Evin always puts the good of the realm before everything else, it’s what makes him such a good rider, but Daine she’s too practical- it seems like a callous thing to think, but I hope they figure that out sooner rather than later because they’ll just end up hurting each other in the end.”

Numair focused on the heartbeat in his ears, the pain in his lungs, the heat in his face- anything other than the truth behind the young rider’s words. Yet he couldn’t ignore it anymore when Miri sighed, her shoulders falling. “You didn’t know. Did you?”

“No, I didn’t,” Numair replied, his voice distant and hollow.

Miri gasped suddenly and he followed her line-of-sight to see that black fire had consumed him up to his elbows.

He shook his hands, dispelling the reactive magic.

“I’m sorry,” said Miri, looking a little frightened, “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Numair looked at his feet, “I wish you hadn’t.”

Miri stared at him as he turned away and started setting out his own gear, trying to distract himself from the unwanted thoughts flitted through his head like a flock of crows, dark and loud.

Part of him wanted to throw Evin into an active volcano while the other part, the logical part, told him that it was an irrational desire. Despite what Miri said, Evin was a smart and honorable young man. Yet, everything else Miri had said was also true. Daine could never be happy with a man that blindly believed in a greater good. Not because of her practicality, though that was a factor, but because she wanted to save everyone. No matter the cost, to the realm or otherwise.

Still, it wasn’t his place to offer an opinion on her romantic life. Gods knew he was the last person to give advice on avoiding the pitfalls of romantic attachment. He’d only been in love once and that had ended, well, not really poorly but definitely not happily either.

Letting out a long breath, Numair pushed away the power that rushed through his heated blood, stubbornly stamping it down before he did something he’d regret.


	11. Friends or Enemies

Evin had not returned the next morning so a concerned Miri left to make sure he was alright. Numair, on the other hand, buried his head in impartial planning based on the notes Daine had given him. The troop movements throughout the valley had slowed, soldiers congregating near the castle. The facts didn’t line up with sound strategy. It was almost like Tristan wasn’t concerned with the possibility that the barrier could be broken. Or that he seemed to be thinking about leaving the valley at all. It just didn’t make sense, which could only mean one thing. Tristan had something especially devious planned.

Before Numair could start to worry about what that was exactly, a familiar red-haired woman atop a large warhorse rode into the clearing. She was wearing light leather armor but was more than prepared to fight. Her greatsword was sheathed within reach and her shield, emblazoned with a gold lioness sigil, rested against her back.

As soon as her eyes fell on Numair, she smiled, “Well, look at you roughin’ it like some commoner. I never thought I’d see the day.”

Numair rolled his eyes at his friend, Alanna- The King’s Champion. “You’ve seen me in far worse conditions than this and you know it.”

“I actually didn’t expect to find you looking so well,” Alanna remarked as if she were speaking about the weather, “Sarge told me about Daine being trapped in the valley.”

Numair looked to the ground so Alanna couldn’t see the turmoil in his eyes. It was a useless endeavor. 

“I also found it strange that Miri didn’t wish to return. It took quite a bit of knightly authority to get her to talk,” said Alanna with a smirk.

“I’m really not in the mood to listen to you try to play advisor. Can’t we just get on with figuring out how to break down the barrier?” What he had meant to sound authoritative came out in a petulant whine.

Alanna dismounted and tied her horse, Darkmoon, next to Spots. “If you wish, but we will talk. You can bet on it.”

“I would debate that but doing so would be a wasted effort. I’ll leave such noble tasks as humbling The Lioness to better men.”

She eyed him sideways as she moved to approach the barrier, “Ah, so that’s what this is about.”

Numair stopped mid-step on his way to join her, “What does that mean?”

“Better men. Or man. Tell me, would any man be good enough for Daine?”

Numair frowned, “I said I didn’t want to talk about it.”

Alanna turned to him, her hands on her hips, “Evin is a fine young man. I truly don’t see the problem. I mean, she’s a smart girl. Far smarter than I was at her age and pretty to boot. Surely you knew this was going to happen eventually?”

“I. Don’t. Want. To. Talk. About. It. All I want is to break down the barrier so that I can make sure Daine’s safe.”

Alanna scoffed, “Daine’s can protect herself. She doesn’t need you to watch over her.”

“Why does everyone feel the need to tell me that?” Numair all but exploded, “I know she’s perfectly capable of taking care of herself!”

“And we get to the crux of the issue,” said Alanna, “You know she’s capable but you worry about her anyway. Sounds to me like you need to start asking yourself why that is.”

“Because she is my student! There’s a certain amount of responsibility there that no one seems to understand.”

“No, she’s your ‘magelet’. That’s different, isn’t it?”

Numair blanched, his thoughts and anger stolen from him by the short woman who looked at him with those knowing amethyst eyes. Alanna, who had come to know him better than anyone else except Daine.

Alanna grinned in victory. “And there we have it. The truth. Now, it’s high time you admitted it to yourself before you drive the world insane with your misplaced ‘protection’.”

Numair’s shoulders fell under the weight of the undeniable but the truth of it didn’t really matter. He couldn’t say anything. She should have the chance to find happiness on her own, without his looming presence influencing her decisions. Without his affection becoming her burden.

“Oh, no,” said Alanna, “I know that look. You’ve made a decision and I bet it’s the wrong one.”

“What am I supposed to do? Tell her the truth? Daine and I already have a very deep, albeit platonic, relationship. We trust each other! Telling her would only work to twist those innocent feelings into a lie she’s too naive to recognize.” Numair looked down, the heat slowly draining from his tone, “No. I won’t selfishly cage her with my feelings.”

“That’s horse shite,” Alanna replied, glaring up at the mage who was a good two feet taller than her. “What happens if she decides she does love Evin? What if she marries him? Can you honestly tell me you’d be happy with that?”

“Happy- no. Content- yes,” he caught the Lioness’ gaze, “Maybe if one day she decides she feels something for me other than the love one feels for a mentor, then I’ll be able to admit the truth but in the end I just want her to be happy. That’s enough for me.”

It was Alanna’s turn to be surprised but she recovered quickly, averting her eyes. “The saddest part is you really mean that. As your friend, I want you to find lasting happiness but I know you’re right. I heard a saying once, that if you love a caged bird you have to set it free. Only if it comes back, will you know that it loved you in return.”

“It’s true, believe me, I’ve been in enough failed relationships to know.”

Alanna let out a long breath of defeat. “Fine. Then I’ll leave it be,” she said then pinned Numair with a commanding glare, “but you have to practice what you preach, you fool. Don’t go tying up her swains in their bedrolls. I want her to find happiness too.”

The mage grimaced, "I apologized.”

“That’s hardly the point, Numair.”

With a sigh, he agreed, “Thank you for understanding.”

She waved away his thanks and turned back toward the barrier, “Let’s see about this gods damned barrier.”

More than happy to oblige, Numair moved to stand beside her, “It won’t reflect, I’ve already tested that.”

“So I heard from Sarge. You know you’re an idiot, right?”

“Yes,” Numair grumbled, “If it had reflected I’d likely be dead right now.”

Alanna had closed her eyes and Numair could feel her gift reaching out, “That isn’t even a question. This barrier is strong, whoever put it together is no slouch.”

“That would be my old friend Tristan,” the name was said like a curse.

“Did you look underneath the spell? It’s not just absorbing, it’s storing and repurposing magic. Whatever we throw at it is only going to make it stronger.” Alanna’s eyes popped open, “By the goddess! How much power did you throw at this thing?”

Numair blushed, “More than I should have.”

“You cursed dolt!” Alanna roared, “You know what this means, right? Even our combined gifts won’t be able to break it with your magic threading through it!”

Numair’s eyebrows rose, “Well, we can’t just sit here and wait for Tristan to take it down.”

“We may not have a choice!” Alanna began pacing, “What were you thinking?”

“I obviously wasn’t,” Numair admitted, his own voice tinged with heat.

Just then, Tkaa walked through the barrier. Alanna actively jumped, reaching for the sword that was still attached to Darkmoon. It was only when Kitten trotted up behind the basilisk, chattering happily, that Alanna let her hands fall to her sides.

“A friend of yours?” she asked the dragonet.

“This is the basilisk, Tkaa,” said Numair, “he has been bringing me messages from Daine the past couple of days.”

“Ah, I see,” said Alanna and bowed her head to the reptilian creature. Tkaa bowed back but apparently, there was no time for more formal greetings as he then pulled a piece of parchment from the pouch in his stomach and held it out to Numair.

“Master Mage, I have a message from Daine. It is dire news I’m afraid.”

Numair immediately took the letter and began reading, his eyebrows raising higher with each word that passed before his eyes. When he’d finished he looked up at Tkaa with wide eyes. The basilisk only nodded, confirming the truth of the contents of the letter.

“What is it?” asked Alanna, her voice pitched with worry, “Is Daine alright?”

Numair held out the letter for Alanna to read, unable to do anything but whisper, “Bloodrain. That son of a whore.”

“In the river?” Alanna asked rhetorically, her own eyes going wide as she read the letter.

“He’ll kill everything within a ten miles radius just to bring my head back to Orzone like a damned trophy.” Numair growled, “Just when I thought he couldn’t be any eviler he has to go and prove me wrong.”

“We have to stop him before he gets the chance,” said Alanna, “Too many innocent people will die otherwise.”

“Daine agreed,” said Tkaa, “She wishes to know how to stop it.”

Numair cursed and clenched his fists. He knew what had to be done but he couldn’t make himself say the words as it would find Daine in more danger than he could imagine.

As if reading his thoughts, Alanna put a hand on his shoulder, “She can handle it, Numair. You know she can.”

“No,” Numair hissed, “There has to be another way.”

“This Tristan fellow is going to dump the Bloodrain in the river at dawn. We don’t have time to come up with another plan,” Alanna argued softly, “Believe me, I don’t like it any more than you do.”

With a deep sigh, Numair turned back to Tkaa, “Tell Daine that I need to talk to her directly. Perhaps she could convince the marmot to help again?”

Tkaa nodded, “Give me a moment, she is just on the other side.”

Numair watched Tkaa disappear, his heart aching to know that Daine was so close and yet so far. 

Filling the silence, Alanna raised a questioning eyebrow, “I’m confused. How will a marmot help you speak to Daine directly?”

“During our time here Daine has learned to enter the minds of her animal friends so that she can hear and see through them.”

“Impressive,” remarked Alanna just as Tkaa reappeared.

“She should be here soon,” he said and, as if on cue, the same marmot from before appeared at Numair’s feet.

He couldn’t bring himself to look at Daine-the-marmot as he spoke, “Daine, I’m afraid I must ask you to break your promise. The only way we’ll be able to get past the barrier to stop the bloodrain is if you find the model of the valley and break it.”

“It would probably be best if you can draw this Tristan fellow from the castle first, though I have no idea how you’d go about doing that,” said Alanna, standing behind Numair with crossed arms and a concerned expression.

“You’ll have to create a distraction,” said Numair, trying to maintain an academic tone while his heart screamed for him to tell Daine to stay as far from the castle as she could, consequences be damned. “Something big enough to demand Tristan’s attention. He’ll want to handle the situation himself as he’s too arrogant to leave things in the hands of the soldiers.” 

“I can handle that,” said Tkaa, “I will need help to get close enough to the southern fort to put my plan into action but I’m sure the wolves will serve in that capacity. We also have some peaceful Giants that may be able to help create chaos in the mines. With multiple distractions, we increase the likelihood that the battle mage will leave the castle.”

Numair tugged on his nose, letting his thoughts escape his lips uninhibited. If he second-guessed himself or the plan then he wouldn’t be able to finish saying what needed to be said. “Then your only problem will be Gissa. She’s smart and not nearly as arrogant as Tristan. I’m not sure she completely agrees with what is going on here but I’m sure she won’t turn against Tristan either. She’ll be a formidable enemy.”

Suddenly Tkaa looked down at Daine-the-marmot in puzzlement, “You can speak to me through this creature?”

The marmot chattered angrily and Tkaa bowed in apology, “Forgive me, Quickmunch. I spoke out of ignorance, not contempt.”

Quickmunch seemed to forgive him as the marmot fell silent.

Numair turned to Tkaa with wide eyes, “You can hear Daine even though she’s not in her own body?”

Tkaa nodded, “Though I did not know until this moment. Daine says she only thought to try now.” The basilisk was silent for a moment, his focus on the marmot. When he spoke, it was with a smile, “Daine says that you might be wrong about Gissa. It seems that she recently had an accident where she was splashed with the bloodrain. Tristan made no move to save her and she was forced to cut off her own hand.”

Numair had to work not to grimace. Bloodrain was no joke. If Gissa had touched it, she was lucky to be alive at all. “I’m not sure even that will be enough, magelet. Tristan has always been cruel to her, yet she continues to care about him. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to try to talk to her first.”

“How long do you think it will take to set up the distractions? Time isn’t exactly on our side,” asked Alanna.

Tkaa thought for a moment before he answered, “The Giants will likely need a few hours to organize but I need very little time. Mostly I plan to cause a rockslide. The nearby hillside is hiding all sort of tasty treasures waiting to be unburied.”

Daine-the-marmot looked up at Tkaa and the basilisk answered her silent question without translating. “I believe the Master Mage can help in that regard.” The marmot nodded Daine’s agreement.

Numair narrowed his eyes on the basilisk, “Mind telling what I’m being volunteered for?”

“Oh, yes, my apologies Master Mage. We will need a signal to coordinate the attack and your attack on the barrier from before could be heard across the valley. Say at the midnight hour? That would give us enough time to discuss our plans and get ready.”

Numair bowed his head in consent, “I can do that but with such a short time to prepare, you’d better go.”

Nodding, Tkaa turned to leave but immediately stopped and turned back toward Quickmunch. “Ah, yes. I almost forgot. Forgive me, Daine.” Turning his large reptilian head, he spoke to Numair and Alanna, “Daine wants to know what you’ll do about the mercenaries coming from the north?”

Alanna was the one to answer, her tone filled with contempt, “Ah yes, Captain Blackthorn. As long as Numair can take care of the bloodrain, we can handle that cowardly bastard. He has a reputation for running when the tide starts to turn away from him. Especially when he learns that Numair and I are here.”

Another short silence and Tkaa asked, “What about the net Tristan has waiting for you, Master Mage?”

Numair offered Daine-the-marmot a reassuring smile, “I’ll be ready for him. He specifically said ‘net’?” The marmot nodded. “Then he must be planning to use a golden net. Don’t worry, he’ll have to work VERY hard to catch me in one of those.”

“It’s true. Golden nets are easy to detect if you are looking for them,” agreed Alanna, smiling down at Daine, “You don’t have to worry about us. We’ll be fine. Just focus on what you’ve got to do.”

“And be careful,” Numair added, his tone turning desperate. He wasn’t ready to watch Daine disappear into the fog of danger. Even now he could feel his gift buzz at the thought. Also feeling it, Kitten whistled softly.

“Daine says that she thinks Kitten should stay with you, Master Numair.”

Numair shook his head at the marmot, “You’ll need her help, surely there will be a few locked doors between you and the model.” He leaned closer, stage-whispering to Kitten conspiratorially, “And you have permission to turn anyone that gets in your way to stone.”

Kitten peaked up at him with inquisitive eyes, chirping as if to ask if he was being serious.

“I mean it,” he replied and Kitten trilled confidently.

Tkaa sighed, “Daine says she doesn’t like that idea and, frankly, neither do I.”

Numair looked to Daine sadly, “If Tristan is looking for me, she’s far safer with you.”

The marmot looked down in a mimicry of reluctance but ultimately nodded.

“Good,” Numair said with a nod, “Now get going. It’s going to be a very long night.”

Daine-the-marmot placed her paw on Numair’s leg. He tried to smile but when it fell flat he said, “I’ll see you soon, magelet.”

The marmot nodded and scurried away. Numair averted his eyes, unable to watch it leave. 

Sighing, Tkaa said, “Come, Skysong. I will return you to your guardian.”

Kitten chirped and nuzzled Numair’s shin. 

Chuckling, he stroked her back, “Be careful, little one. I’ll be very upset if you get hurt trying to enact some complex whistle-magic.”

Another chirp was her understanding before she trotted away to rejoin Tkaa. He lifted Kitten from the ground and deposited her in his pouch. Then he looked up, pinning Numair with sad eyes, “Stay safe, Master Mage.”

“You as well, Tkaa,” Numair replied with a respectful bow of his head.

Once Kitten and Tkaa had disappeared, Numair let out a long breath, as if he could dispel all his worry out his stoney lungs.

Alanna clapped him on the shoulder, “They’ll be alright.”

“I hope you’re right. Otherwise, I just made the biggest mistake of my life.”

“Well, it won't do to sit here dwelling on it. Come on, we’d better go fill in the others.”

Numair nodded and stood, motivating himself on the single hope that soon he’d be able to see Daine again soon.


	12. The Better Man

Minutes passed like days as Numair waited for the midnight hour yet it came all too soon.

With a steadying inhale, the mage threw a blast of magic at the shield and prayed to the gods.

It reverberated against the mountains and back to his ears with such force that Numair said a silent apology to whatever creatures happened to be in the vicinity.

Another explosion shook the ground beneath Numair’s feet and then there was only silence. It stretched around him until he was sure his chest was collapsing.

Just as he was about to give into those deepest and darkest fears, a crack appeared in the barrier. It spread, creating fractals of shimmering light that were nearly blinding. Then, with a sudden crash, the barrier broke into a thousand shards. The residual magic fell around the valley like sand raining from the sky.

Numair didn’t hesitate, calling upon his magic to reshape his form into that of a hawk.

It took him a moment to remember how to fly but soon he was speeding through the air. 

Down below he could see the cause of the earthquake. One of the mines had collapsed and around it, the Dunlath soldiers were retreating from a wave of armed giants.

A loud screech broke through the air, pulling Numair’s focus from the ground to the space in front of him. He found Gissa atop a hurrok, her arms outstretched as if she were calling to the sky. Banking, he barely managed to dodge the orange lightning aimed at him. Gissa’s face pulled into a grimace as she pulled her mount around to engage him in another attack.

Numair dove, speeding toward the ground in an attempt to escape the mage he had once called a friend. It was a mistake as unsure wings didn’t spread in time to catch the air before gravity could take hold. He clipped the ground, sending him into a spiral that he nearly didn’t recover from. By the time he regained control, Gissa and the hurrok had caught up to him.

He wasn’t going to be able to outrun her, not if he hoped to find Daine. There was no choice but to talk to her.

Numair shifted back to human form mid-landing and turned to face Gissa with a careful stoicism.

The hurrok landed a few meters away and Gissa dismounted. With a quick slap to the immortal’s rump, she dismissed it back into the air before taking up a dueling position across from Numair. One hand and one stump were consumed in orange fire.

“I don’t want to fight you,” Numair called to the female mage.

“Then why did you betray us?”

Balls of orange fire flew at him, beating against his shield one after the other. Calling magic from the earth, he kept a shield firmly in place, refusing to use offensive spells against her in the hope that he wouldn’t lose yet another friend to Ozorne’s games.

“Those are the Emperor’s words, not yours,” Numair yelled above the onslaught, “Please, surrender. I’ll make sure you’re treated fairly.”

Gissa didn’t let up, moving forward a step with each ball of magic she hurled at him. Still, her voice became mournful. “I know. You were always the better man, Arram, but Tristan has my father held captive. Either I help him bring you to Ozorne or my father dies.”

Numair’s eyes widened, “We can find another way! Those aren’t your only choices!”

“There is a third option,” Gissa replied as she stopped a meter from him. She smiled and brought up her hands for another attack. “I’m sorry, Arram, I really am.”

He realized her plan too late as she took a step forward at the same moment a bolt of orange lightning struck his shield. Her magic rebounded with such force that it tossed her over a hundred feet back.

Dropping his shield a moment too late, Numair rushed to where Gissa’s body had landed. A large hole, scorched at the edges by her own attack, left the gnarled contents of her chest cavity exposed. 

Unseeing eyes, that had once looked at him warmly in friendship, stared up at the overcast sky while a peaceful smile became frozen on her lips.

“Why would you do that?” Numair asked the corpse, his voice breaking under the weight of what she’d just done. 

Unfortunately, his logical mind knew the answer. Numair could tell the world the truth and doom her father to death or he could take the blame. Gissa had known which path he would choose, knowing him as the “better man”.

“We could have found another way,” he whispered, his voice thick.

Standing, he looked up at the sky and prayed for her safe passage into the realms of the Black God.

A deep breath helped him let go of his guilt as his heart reminded him that he had to find Daine. Now, more than ever, he needed her at his side.

Taking hawk-shape once more, Numair flew toward the castle. When it's grey stone walls came into sight, Numair tucked in his wings and dove for the front entrance. He landed on human feet to sprint through the open doorway.

In the vestibule, Numair found chaotic destruction. Scorch marks marred the walls and a tapestry had been completely turned to ash. Acid, green and hot, ate at one of the walls until the morning light shone through the stone.

Following the path of battle, Numair ascended the tower steps three at a time, leaping more than running until he reached the landing.

A statue stood before the opened door, posed as if it were about to close its jaws around some unseen enemy. The lizard-like creature known as a Coldfang stood on its hind legs, its head as high as Numair’s torso. Its long mouth was filled with long jagged teeth meant to bite and hold like a crocodile but its thin body was more like that of a common gecko. It’s equally long tail was held aloft, the snake-like rattle at the end frozen in mid-motion. It had been the coldfang’s saliva that had caused the hole in the castle wall, but in its stone form, it was harmless.

Numair slid past it, stepping into the large round room that was marked by various magical tools as being the workroom of a master mage. 

Inside, a worried Kitten chattered loudly as she paced around a crumpled form that rested in an unmoving heap against the far wall. A wide red streak led down to a bowed head where a wound still oozed.

The dragonet trilled a high-pitched note that mirrored Numair’s inner screams of denial. No, she couldn’t be dead. 

Without conscious thought, his magic leaped away from him to reach for her. He followed it across the room, passing Kitten who looked up at him with wide eyes. The glittering of desperate hope in the small dragon’s amber eyes cut him to the bone.

Kneeling at her side, he reached out with a trembling hand to cup his magelet’s cheek.

“Please,” he whispered, “Come back to me, magelet.”

Then, either in reaction to his touch or in answer to his plea, the dim threads of her wild magic sluggishly rose to greet the shadowy tendrils of his gift. 

The gifts intertwined, twisting around each other as if they were two pieces of the same braid, then the newly formed ropes snaked through her veins until she was glowing with the combined light of their magic. 

Slowly, muscle, bone, and skin knit together until she was whole once more. The magic began to dim, draining away from Daine as she stirred. 

“Numair?” she croaked, squinting at him in confusion.

The mage couldn’t answer before Kitten leaped toward Daine, trilling with unbridled relief as she landed heavily on her mother’s lap.

Daine chuckled roughly and reached up to weakly pet the dragonet, “Hey there, Kit.”

Seeing Daine wince as Kitten shifted her weight to search Daine for any trace of residual injury, Numair plucked the dragonet from her lap, “That’s enough, little one. She’ll be fine, just let her rest a moment.”

Kitten allowed Numair to set her on the floor without protest but wouldn’t so much as blink, afraid to close her eyes and find that it was all just a grief-driven hallucination. Numair couldn’t blame her, he knew exactly how she felt. 

Warmth flooded through him as she met his gaze, bathing him in the light of her smokey eyes, banishing the last of his fear. She was alive.

Forgetting her fragile state, he crushed her thin form to his chest but she made no show of discomfort. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him closer.

“Gods, you have no idea how glad I am to see you alive, magelet,” he whispered into her hair.

She pulled back to wipe leaky eyes on her sleeve, “Maybe a little. I feel the same, y’know.”

He smiled at her, “I know.”

Looking past him, Daine scanned the room until she found the model of the valley with it’s broken opals and dusting of shattered magic. She closed her eyes and let her head rest against the stone wall behind her.

“Damned thing exploded when I broke the stones,” she said angrily, indicating the model with a weak flutter of her hand. “Hobs bobs, that hurt.”

Numair sighed remorsefully, “I’m sorry. I should have warned you about a possible backlash. I forgot how utterly childish Tristan could be.”

Daine opened her eyes and smiled at him, “Don’t worry, I’ll be a’right.” Then she frowned, her nose wrinkling, “Or, at least I will be when you get rid of that foul potion. The smell’s awful.”

Only when the boiling red liquid was brought to his attention, did Numair finally notice the vile smell. It was like acidic death, burning his nostrils.

“Your wish is my command, magelet,” he said and went to stand before the stewing cauldron. Calling forth his magic he whispered the complex spell and, with a pop, the deadly potion was banished into that space between worlds where nothing could exist.

Once it was gone, he turned back to Daine to find her trying to stand.

“Daine!” he admonished, catching her as her legs tried to fold beneath her, “Take it easy.”

She held him with tight fingers that dug into his skin as she willed herself to stand. He did what he could to help her, watching her strength grow as she regained control of stiff muscles and watery bones.

Finally, when she could stand unaided, she loosened her grip and looked up at him. With a deep frown, she reached up and brushed her fingers along his cheekbone. He winced at the slight pain that brought back the raw memories of Gissa’s last moments.

“What happened?” she asked.

He averted his gaze, “Gissa and I crossed paths on my way to find you.”

“You gonna be alright?” she asked softly.

He nodded, “Eventually.”

To avoid a further discussion on the subject, Numair stepped away from her to pluck a now steel-blue Kitten from the floor. 

“I’m assuming that the statue in the hallway was your doing?” Kitten nodded. “Well, you did very well. Your targeting was spot-on.” The dragonet nudged him in shy gratitude. 

“She shouldn’t have done it,” Daine grumbled as she stooped to pick up her bow, “I had things well in hand.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Numair replied but, in a stage-whisper told Kitten that as soon as they got to the tower he’d find his book on Scanran whistle magics for her.

Daine glared at him, “Don’t you dare. You taught her that blasted invisibility spell and for what? It fooled the two-leggers but that coldfang saw us straight off.”

“Come now, Daine. Our little Skysong wants to learn. To deny her goes against everything I stand for as a teacher!”

Daine tried and failed to hide her smile behind a glower, “I think we have bigger things to deal with at the moment. We still have to find Yolane and Belden.”

Numair’s expression turned stormy, “Don’t forget my old friend Tristan. I have a few words for him and none of them are ‘goddess bless’.”

Daine’s dark glare matched his, “Then we’d best get moving.”


	13. The Girl Who Became A Wolf

Together they descended the stairs to find Evin waiting in the courtyard. He pasted on a smiled as they approached but the expression was missing it's natural light. “The Own are coming through the village while the riders round up the soldiers at the forts,” Evin said absently before looking Daine over from head to toe, “You alright?”

“I’m fine. You?”

Evin shrugged, “A few bumps and bruises but I’ll live.”

Daine passed him a smile but just as soon as it came it was replaced by a deep frown. Her head tilted upward and her eyes narrowed.

Before either Numair or Evin understood what was happening, Daine notched an arrow and fired it into the sky. An ear-splitting shriek was followed by the sound of something heavy crashing into the lake.

Numair looked toward the sound to find the body of a hurrok sinking into the water. Tristan floated down from the sky, landing softly on the cobblestones of the courtyard. Numair’s rage boiled upon seeing the mage, every heart-wrenching emotion he had felt in the last twenty-four hours culminating in a dark mood that had his magic floating around him like a thundercloud.

“You’d best get to a safe distance,” he told Daine as he handed Kitten over. He didn’t need to see her nod to know she understood.

Numair stepped forward to meet his foe with black fire already dancing across his fingers.

“Well, hello, Tristan. I have to say, I’ve been looking forward to this.”

“You can’t possibly beat me!” Tristan hissed, “You never had the stomach for battle magic!”

Numair smiled evilly, “Oh, I’ve gained a great deal of fortitude since leaving Carthak. Here, let me demonstrate.”

Sending his magic into the ground, Numair wrapped Tristan in a cocoon of tree roots. As he expected, the cage did not hold the enemy mage for long. The twisting roots were burned away with swirling yellow fire.

“You expect that to impress me?” laughed Tristan as he gathered the fire and funneled it toward Numair. The tall mage could only smile darkly as the fire swirled around him and was extinguished. That seemed to get Tristan’s attention, his eyes widening in fear.

“How-?” he started to ask but he refused to finish the question, his mouth twisting into a grimace. Spinning his hands through the air before him, Tristan murmured a spell and liquid fire formed around Numair like a sheath. Numair had only to whisper his own personally-devised counter-spell and the liquid fire melted away like thawing ice, leaving him untouched.

Throwing out his hands, Numair unleashed a stream of web-like silk to wrap around Tristan like a cage. Tristan tore at the strands with his hands, rage twisting his features as he emerged from his confines.

“Stop playing games you fool!” Tristan growled, throwing ball after ball of yellow fire at Numair. Each one rebounded off of the shield but this time Numair was careful to deflect the magic away from Tristan. He would not make the same mistake twice.

“You’re the fool, Tristan.” Numair argued, “You’ve already lost. Give up now before I’m forced to do something we’ll both regret.”

“No! I won’t let you take me to that weak-willed idiot in Corus!”

Tristan raised his hands and the ground at Numair’s feet quaked. Numair quickly uttered another counterspell, pulling the ground directly beneath him from Tristan’s magical grasp. When both spells were complete, Numair was standing on a thin rock spire surrounded by a crater at least nine feet deep.

Numair’s continued counters only seemed to increase Tristan’s rage until he was actively fuming, “You gutless bookworm! You think you’ll come away from this golden, don’t you? Well here’s what I think of your ‘honor code’!”

Magic swirled around Tristan, creating a tornado of uncontrolled power. Numair prepared another counter, wrapping himself in the power he gathered from the very earth. Then Tristan smiled and looked up toward the castle’s parapet where Daine stood, aiming a drawn bow at a group of retreating Stormwings.

Tristan smiled evilly as he directed the swirling magic at Daine.

Numair’s thoughts froze, leaving him to act on pure instinct. His lips moved of their own accord, uttering a single word that rocked the very world itself.

The vortex of power evaporated, revealing a tree that had once been known as Tristan Staghorn.

His heart pounding in his ears, Numair looked up to see Daine staring at him with wide eyes.

“Uh, thanks, I think,” said Daine as she glanced at the tree, “Was that one of those words of power?”

“Yes,” he said with a sigh that was a mix of relief and regret.

“Will this hurt some other part of the world?” she asked, her voice light in direct contrast to the seriousness of her question.

“Luckily, I chose a word that has a rather minor consequence compared to some of the others that spring to mind. The use of this particular word means that somewhere there is a tree that is now a, uh, two-legger.”

Daine stared at the tree in awe, “That’s fair wondrous.”

“It was fair doltish,” Numair replied grumpily, mocking Daine’s accent, “Especially rushed. Other black robe mages have completely vanished trying to use words of power. And that’s one of the better outcomes.” Bowing his head in shame, Numair saw the deep trench around him and frowned, “Now how am I going to get out of this?”

Daine’s answer came as she was running into the castle, “I don’t know! Use another word of power or something!”

“Where are you going!” he called but she was already gone. Cursing he looked back down at his feet and muttered, “Mithros help me, she’s gonna be the death of me yet.”

From the parapet, Kitten whistled down at him in question.

He smiled up at her, “Mind giving me a hand, little one?”

She whistled again and a few large rocks rose to create a bridge over the crater. Numair crossed it quickly, looking back up to Kitten once he was safely on solid ground. “Thank you, sweet.”

Kitten trilled a “you’re welcome,” and then left to follow Daine. Numair made to follow as well but he only made it as far as the castle steps before he was overcome with vertigo. He collapsed onto the steps, resting his head on his knees as he waited for the nausea to pass.

A short time later, footsteps alerted him that he wasn’t alone and he raised his head to find Daine and Evin looking down at him. Daine blanched, silently telling Numair that he must look like death incarnate. He tried to reassure her by pasting on a smile but she was far from convinced.

Fortunately, Numair wasn’t subject to her worried expression for long as that distant look entered her eyes and she spun. Following her line of sight to the castle gate revealed the wolves. They trotted up to Daine who knelt so they could sniff and lick her. The only one who didn’t was a mostly grey wolf with a brown strip down her spine. She went right for Numair instead, licking his face excitedly before eventually moving to bury her nose in his hair.

“Hello there, Fleetfoot,” he said, raising a shaking hand to pet her. The wolf yipped, turning her attention to Daine who had stood to once more cast her concerned gaze on Numair.

Without taking her eyes from him, she said, “Evin? Will you stay with Numair until the army arrives?”

Numair and Evin both frowned at her.

“Where are you going?” Numair asked.

“Yolane’s gone. Cloud saw her ride off into the forest over an hour ago. The pack can track her so I’m going with them.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” said Numair, “What if she isn’t alone?”

Daine passed him a bored expression, ticking off Yolane’s potential allies on her fingers, “Belden’s committed suicide, Tristan’s a tree, Brokefang says the giants have the soldiers at the northern fort trapped, Tkaa just sent word that the men at the southern fort are in Sarge’s custody, and Lord Rikash is already on his way back to Carthak with his Stormwings. Who’s left?”

Numair’s shoulders fell in defeat, “Fine. Just be careful, alright?”

“I will,” she told him and ran off toward the lake.

Numair and Evin watched her as she dove into the water and a moment later emerged in the form of a wolf.

“Mithros be good,” Numair breathed, unable to take his eyes from the smokey-brown wolf as she joined the pack and disappeared into the trees, “How long has she been able to do that?”

Evin looked to Numair, his brow furrowing, “She’ll be alright?”

“I’m pretty sure this is the least dangerous thing she’s done all week,” Numair replied, his frustration seeping into his tone. He was a little glad that he was physically exhausted at the moment, otherwise, he’d probably be far more worried than he was.

Evin sighed heavily, “I don’t mean going after Yolane. I know she’ll be fine with the wolves. It’s just that- she won’t get stuck as a wolf, right? She can change back?”

Numair frowned as memories began to resurface of those first few nights in Dunlath. Her ill-spoken words echoed through his mind, sending a shiver down his spine. _Sometimes I think I might have been better off living with the wolves._

The mage shot to his feet, swaying a little on tired legs, “I have to go after her.”

“Why?” Evin asked, panic seeping into his expression as well as his voice.

Numair shook his head but hissed as the motion made the world spin, “Let’s just say that she’s particularly susceptible to the allure of the wild while around wolves.”

“You think she’d choose to stay a wolf?” Evin asked, his eyes going wide.

“It wouldn’t necessarily be a choice,” replied Numair as his mind ran through all the possible ways he could catch up with the pack. He definitely couldn’t do it on foot, not with how tired he was.

As if called, Spots trotted through the gate. Silently Numair thanked the gods for their small miracles and mounted his horse.

Turning west, Numair leaned forward to speak to Spots directly, “We need to find Daine. Fast.”


	14. Don't Move

Spots neighed softly and took off at a gallop. Every hoofbeat reverberated in Numair’s ears, making his head ache but he pushed back the pain and focused on the road ahead. 

A few minutes later, Numair and Spots were passed by a horse that sprinted back toward the castle. Though Numair didn't recognize the riderless mount, Spots seemed to as he picked up speed. It was shortly after that when they finally found the pack. 

The wolves surrounded Lady Yolane who had been tossed to the ground. One wolf particular held Yolane’s attention- a smokey brown animal that snarled at the lady with hunger in her eyes.

Dismounting quickly was a mistake as Numair’s legs folded when he landed. Spots caught him with his nose, allowing the mage to grip his mane in order to find his feet. Once he was sure he wasn’t going to collapse, Numair whispered thanks to the wonderful horse and turned toward the wolves.

“Daine,” he said, putting as much authority as he could behind the name. The smokey brown wolf flinched but didn’t turn away from her prey, barking at the frightened woman in a deadly promise.

Numair strode forward, putting himself between wolf-Daine and Yolane. Wolf-Daine snapped at him but he forced himself to stand his ground. Meeting the wolf’s grey-blue eyes, he scowled at her. “That’s enough, Daine. You’ve found Yolane, you can change back now.”

Behind him, Yolane scrambled to her feet in order to cling to Numair in desperation. “Please, do something! She’s going to kill me!”

Numair glared at the woman over his shoulder as he shrugged her away, “Do yourself a favor, My Lady, and shut up. Otherwise, I can’t guarantee you’ll make it to Corus for trial.”

Turning his attention back to Wolf-Daine, he found her ears flattened against her head. She growled warningly and some of the other wolves shrank away, their heads bowed in submission. Only Brokefang and Fleetfoot stood their ground but even they seemed frightened by the power that spilled from Daine like an untamed blaze.

“I won’t move,” he told her, crossing his arms in defiance, “I told you I wouldn’t let you go wild and I’ll die before I break that promise.”

“How can you speak to her like she’s human!” screamed Yolane, “She’s nothing but an animal!”

That garnered an especially dark look from Numair, his tone dropping to match, “At least animals don’t hurt innocent people for the sake of power. Only monsters do that.”

This time Yolane seemed to understand just how serious her situation was as she stumbled backward, pressing against the rock wall that had blocked her flight from the valley.

Numair was just returning to addressing wolf-Daine when she suddenly leaped at him, teeth aimed for his throat. Unprepared, he called his magic only to remember that his gift was still drained. 

That was when Fleetfoot, in a sudden show of courage, charged wolf-Daine, sending her sprawling a few feet away. Fleetfoot came to stand between the smokey-brown wolf and the mage, growling a dark warning.

Wolf-Daine rolled back to her feet and snarled at Fleetfoot, snapping angrily.

Before things could escalate further, Numair stepped forward to kneel beside Fleetfoot. With a soft hand, he quietly murmured, “It’s alright.”

Fleetfoot stopped snarling but her deep growl continued to vibrate against Numair’s hand. With a steadying breath, he met wolf-Daine’s gaze, letting every buried emotion bleed through his black eyes.

“Daine, please, you have to remember who you are. Think of everyone who cares about you, who’d miss you if you left. Evin, Miri, Onua, Sarge, Alanna. Me.” He looked away from her as everything he felt for her consumed him, tearing him to pieces, “Especially me. I don’t think I’d be able to live with myself knowing I failed you.”

Silence rang in his ears, deafening him as the truth of it all crippled him. He couldn’t live in a world without Daine there to tease him mercilessly, to glare at him everytime he dropped his reins, or brighten his day with a smile.

“Numair?”

His head shot up at the whispered sound of his name to find a very human Daine staring at him with terrified eyes.

“My gods,” she whispered past the shaking of her voice, “I almost- I could have-”

Numair averted his gaze as he realized that she was without clothes upon changing back.

“Don’t think that way,” he said softly as he stood and removed his cloak to wrap it around her shoulders. With shaking hands, she gripped the edges of the heavy cloth and pulled it tight around her.

She looked up at him, grey-blue eyes searching his face for any hint of the fear she had seen from so many others. It’s absence was her undoing, her shoulders bowing forward as tears streamed down her face. “Oh, Numair, I’m so sorry!”

He knelt in front of her once more, reaching out to brush a wild curl from her wet cheek. “Shh. It’s alright, magelet.”

She fell against him, burying her face in his chest. His arms went around her, stroking her back comfortingly. 

After what felt like an eternity that passed in seconds, Daine’s tears dried and she pulled away from him.

“Alanna and the others will be here soon. The caves are nearby, I should go get my clothes.”

“Do you want me to go with you?” he offered quietly, standing and offering Daine a hand up.

Daine shook her head as she stood and wiped the tears from her eyes with the edge of his cloak, “I’ll be fine on my own. You should stay and keep Lady Yolane company.”

Numair had almost forgotten about the fugitive lady who had been at the center of this entire mess. He turned to find her sitting against the rocks, her knees to her chest as she grimaced at her captors.

The wolves had returned to their circle around the woman, Brokefang, in particular, keeping a close vigil.

“What do you say, My Lady? Why don’t we go meet the King’s Champion so you can face the consequences of your actions?” Numair asked.

“I’m not going anywhere with either of you. I’ll remain right her to await the King’s justice as is my right.” The words were spoken with blatant disgust, “You are both freaks who should have been smothered at birth. Not allowed to-”

Yolane’s words were cut off by a thick cough as Numair, who had recovered a small bit of his magic, mouthed a short spell. “That’s quite enough venom from you, My Lady.”

“I’ll be back soon,” said Daine before she disappeared into the trees. 

She returned a short time later, fully clothed and carrying his cloak. Daine handed the heavy garment to him and he shoved it unceremoniously back into his pack, earning him an eye roll from the young woman.

“What?” he asked with a shrug, “I’ve always said folding clothes is a waste of time.”

Daine shook her head ruefully, “I’m glad some things will never change.”

“Yes,” Numair replied with a soft smile, “I’ll never fold my clothes, I’ll never be a graceful rider, and I’ll never, ever, break a promise.”

The smile she gave him was a strange mix of gratitude, sadness, and affection, “Thank you, Numair.”

“No thanks required, magelet.”

Just then the sound of hooves met their ears and they looked up to find Alanna, Sarge, Raoul, and Even approaching. They stopped a few feet from the mixed company of wolves, mages, and traitor.

Alanna looked down at Numair and Daine with a glittering smirk, “Good to see you both in one piece. We worried there for a bit. Then Evin here told us that you-” she pointed at Daine, “turned into a wolf, and you-” she turned the extended index finger on Numair but the gesture was far more accusatory than the one she had used on Daine, “Turned someone into a tree!”

Numair sighed heavily, “I had a very good reason.”

“You can’t just go around turning people into trees!” Alanna chided the mage.

“He deserved far worse,” Daine said darkly.

“That’s not the point,” Alanna replied but dropped the entire conversation all together as she saw Yolane fluidly rise from the ground to walk past Numair and Daine, nose in the air.

“You must be the Lady of Dunlath,” said Raoul as he dismounted.

Yolane nodded and Numair waved a hand to remove the silence spell he had placed on her, “You may speak now, My Lady. Though I’d suggest keeping you vicious comments to yourself.”

“I demand to be taken to Corus immediately,” said Yolane, arrogantly.

“Unfortunately for you, we only answer to the King and his Queen,” said Raoul with a scowl, “So you’ll be taken to the capital for trial at OUR convenience. Understood?”

Yolane sneered but let herself be bound and led back to Dunlath village by Raoul and Sarge.

Once they were out of sight, Daine looked up at Alanna, “How did it go with the mercenaries?

Alanna smiled down at her, “As we thought, they turned and fled the moment they saw all the destruction around Dunlath.”

“That’s good,” said Numair, “with any luck, they’ll cross back into Scanra with their tails still between their legs.”

“Doesn’t mean our job here is done,” said Evin, “We have plenty to clean up.”

Alanna nodded agreement, “That’s true but not before the two of you get some rest. Mount up, Numair, before you fall down. Daine, you can ride with me.”

The two nodded and did as they were told. 

“After this last week, I think I could sleep for a year,” said Numair with a yawn as they started back toward the village.

Daine mirrored it, “Me too.”

“Sounds like a plan then,” said Alanna, “Goddess knows you two have earned it.”


	15. Promises

It was hard to tell how long Numair had slept when he finally opened his eyes to find himself still laying in his room at the inn.

“A week,” said Daine, answering his unasked question in a tone that was partially chiding. It was only when her soft face appeared in his vision that he realized how worried she’d been. “Goddess be good, I thought you’d never wake up.”

He smiled through his waking haze, “Well, I did, though I almost wish I hadn’t. I feel like my bones are made of liquid fire.”

Daine winced on his behalf and helped him into a sitting position. Once he was laying comfortably against the headboard, he asked, “What about you? Shapeshifting isn’t exactly kind to the body.”

“I was sore when I woke up five days ago,” she admitted and then pulled a face at him, “But Alanna’s been making me drink all these foul teas ever since! They work to dull the pain but, hobs bobs, they taste like they’re made from ash!”

Numair chuckled, “I know of the tea and I have to agree, it tastes awful, but if it helps with the pain it’s worth it.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Daine replied crossing her arms defiantly but the facade was ruined by the smile in her eyes. Suddenly she bowed her head and dropped her hands back to her sides, barely hiding the darkness that extinguished the glimmer of mirth in her expression. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about what happened but if you’re still tired we don’t have to.”

Numair reached out and captured her hand in order to guide her into a seated position on the bed. She did so mechanically, refusing to look up at him. With his free hand, he lifted her chin so that he could search her face. What he found there made him frown. She was afraid.

“It’s not like that,” she said as if reading his mind. His brow furrowed and she pulled away from him to look at their still clasped hands. With a melancholy smile, she tried to explain, “I don’t know why the gods saw fit to give me a wonderful teacher like you but I’m glad they did. I doubt anyone else would have risked their life to save me from myself.”

Numair averted his gaze, “Surely that isn’t true. What about Evin?”

“Evin?” she asked in surprise, “What about him?”

“I was just noticing that he seemed to care about you a great deal.” He couldn’t bring himself to be direct but it didn’t seem to matter as, much to his displeasure, Daine frowned.

“Evin and I decided we’re better off as friends,” Daine said quietly, “Well, more like I decided. I like talking to him and stuff-” Numair really didn’t want to know what “stuff” entailed, “but I just can’t bring myself to trust him. I couldn’t even tell him about my past because I was afraid he’d turn on me. Not that he actually would, it’s just how I feel. Still, the whole thing got me thinkin'.” She glanced up at him in hesitation, reaching up to wrap her fingers around the badger’s claw. “I want you to take back your promise.”

Numair was stunned into silence, openly gaping at her, so she wrapped her arms around herself and tried to explain. “The whole time I was in wolf-shape I kept thinking about how simple things were with the pack. Run, hunt, live.” She visibly shivered, “I think I was afraid to be human again. All humans seemed to do was hurt others and then you were there and I couldn’t remember who you were. I couldn’t remember and I almost killed you and I-”

She choked on her tears, shuddering as her entire body was ravaged by sobs. Numair reached out to comfort her but she shrunk away from him.

Sighing, Numair let his arm fall back to the bed. “Alright, then I take it back. If you want to be with the wolves, I won’t stop you.”

“Why?” she asked quietly, her voice tinged with surprise like she hadn't expected him to agree.

“Because I just want you to be happy. That’s what I’ve always wanted, ever since that day you found me stuck in my hawk-form." He had to keep his voice even. Distant. Friendly. She didn't need his selfish feelings right now. She needed the man who had juggled for her. The man who made her smile. "You’re more than just my student, Daine, you’re my friend.”

Her head shot up and their gazes met. For a moment the world seemed to stand still as Numair waited with empty lungs as she searched his face for the answers to the questions that flitted over her eyes.

“Numair, I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispered the words like a plea.

“I know but the wild world is a part of you, it’s in everything you are,” He took a minute to brush a wayward curl from her cheek. “No one has the right to keep you from being who you are. So how about, instead of promising to keep you from going wild, I promise to be there whenever you need me.”

“Really?” she asked in a whisper.

“Yes.” 

She leaped at him, wrapping her thin arms around his neck. He hesitated for a moment before returning the embrace, closing his eyes and taking in the blissful feeling of having her near. He’d happily die a thousand times for the sake of keeping her in his arms forever.

She rested her forehead on his shoulder.

“I think I'll be alright with that.”

Yes, he could live with that.

Just being her friend was good enough.


	16. Family

Saying goodbye to friends was hard but saying goodbye to family was even harder.

And the wolves were that, family. 

One by one the wolves said their goodbyes to Daine and Numair with licks and sniffs until only two remained.

Fleetfoot bowed her head sadly as she walked up to Numair and buried her nose in his hair. He threaded his fingers through the scruff at the wolf’s neck.

“Thank you, Fleetfoot.”

She stepped back, meeting his gaze. There was no need for Daine to translate the deep affection in Fleetfoot's eyes. They understood each other without the need for wild magic.

"We'll visit," he promised.

She licked his face and trotted away.

Last was Brokefang. Instead of the traditional wolf-goodbye, he simply stood there looking between the two humans with a serious glint in his eyes. It was a command, weighted with all the authority he had as a pack leader.

They were pack now, and pack was an unbreakable bond. No matter what, they had to look after each other.

Numair and Daine glanced at each other, their soft expressions telling a story their voices could not, and nodded to the wolf as one.

Brokefang nodded in return and, after licking each human's cheek, led the pack back into the forest.

Daine and Numair watched them disappear, but the moment they were out of sight, Daine grabbed his hand. Fighting back tears, she silently said goodbye one last time.

Their final farewell came in a chorus of howls that rang through the forest in a shared note of famility. The heartful song of the pack.

“Do you think I’ll ever see them again?” Daine asked after the song had ended, still staring into the distance.

“Even if you don’t, they’ll always be your family.”

“That’s true.” She turned to look at him, her grey-blue eyes shining in the afternoon sun and brimming with affection. "You know my ma always used to say that you should never break a promise to an animal. I think she was right. Brokefang would never have understood if I'd been unable to help."

He smiled at her, “You did well, magelet. Now Dunlath will have a new lord, one who will appreciate what they have instead of yearning for what they don’t.”

“It’s a good lesson,” said Daine, the words undertoned with an emotion Numair couldn't place but which sounded almost forlorn. 

Numair chuckled, trying to set her at ease, “Yes it is. An excellent moral to a story that will likely be told in taverns across the country. Gods, I can hear the mundane titles now! 'Dances with Wolves' Or, wait, I've got it! 'The Black Opal Plot'!”

Daine shook her head ruefully and started pulling him with her toward the courtyard where their mounts waited.

“Let’s go home, you silly man.”

“Let’s.”


End file.
